


Hide Your Fires

by GeoffFree



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Agoraphobia, Alternate Universe, Angst, Fluff, Hurt Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Sastiel Big Bang 2014, Slavery, hurt!castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-13
Updated: 2014-12-13
Packaged: 2018-02-28 13:18:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 87,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2734031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeoffFree/pseuds/GeoffFree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel, a clone of Jimmy Novak, escapes from the 3D printing factory, only to come across Sam Winchester, a friend of Jimmy. Although initially distrustful of each other, Sam eventually takes pity on the injured clone and decides to help him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> After several months, and days of technical difficulties, this fanfic has eventually been posted. I would like to thank Evian-Fork, for the beautiful art, particularly as they had less than a week to do it in. I'd also like to thank everyone who supported me on tumblr. And of course, I thank the Sastiel Big Bang moderators for actually managing to put up with me after I started having trouble posting it. It's been an experience, and one that I've definitely enjoyed, even if I'm relieved to have finally completed it. 
> 
> Also, please be aware that the contents of this fanfic are potentially triggering, and do pay attention to the tags to see warnings. Otherwise, enjoy!

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Jimmy blinked up at them, turning his bleary eyes away from the small television screen that hovered over his hospital bed. He spared them only a small smile, but his eyes flashed with a relief that was able to pierce the cloud of tiredness that infiltrated his blue gaze. The dialysis machine beeped steadily in the background, its presence looming over them all.

“So, how you feeling?” Sam asked, taking a seat by the side of the bed and motioning for his brother to do the same.

“Like shit.” Jimmy groaned in response. The weathered lines of his face and the faint sheen of sweat that trickled down his skin verifying his words. “I swear, the daytime TV just makes this whole thing worse.”

“Hey, you got Dr Sexy, that ain’t too bad.” Dean piped up, flashing a grin Jimmy’s way. Jimmy shook his head slightly, his lips curling upwards despite his forced irritation.

“I swear to god you’re like a middle-aged women.” Jimmy retorted. Dean tilted his head slightly in acceptance, despite the slight pout that formed over his lips.

“Has Amelia been up yet?” Sam asked, diverting the conversation towards considerably more important matters.

“Not today, no. Work isn’t giving her much time off at the moment, and I don’t think Claire would like to sit around in a hospital for a few hours.” Jimmy said. If he was saddened by the prospect, his face didn’t show it. “I mean, it’s not like I’m not seeing them when I go home. I only have to come in now for the dialysis machine, so there’s not much point for them to come up.”

“Should have gone easy on the alcohol.” Dean pointed out, as helpful as always. Sam tried- and failed- to suppress an eye roll.

“I’ll say that to you in a few years.” Jimmy quipped without missing a beat. Dean laughed in agreement.

“Speaking of too much alcohol, you still coming round Bobby’s this weekend?”Dean asked, his eyes sparkling. The weather had just started to warm up, and as usual Bobby was dragging everyone he could get a hold off to come down for a barbecue and a few bears.

“Of course, I should be fine by then.” Jimmy nodded. Sam smiled, it wouldn’t have been the same without Jimmy. He’d always been closer to Dean, having both met each other whilst working on the police force, but he had really managed to integrate himself into the family circle when he had stood beside them and given them all the support they needed after dad had died. And of course, he had Bobby’s approval which meant he was one of them whether he liked it or not.

“So, you’ve paid for it then?” Sam asked, raising an eyebrow. Clones were expensive, although the process was becoming cheaper as the technology improved, but it was still quite a lot for treatment. It was why most people had savings just to cover the expense should it come up, and of course there were loans you could take out, but most people tried to avoid that route.

“Yeah, just about. Should be ready by tomorrow and then I can have the operation.” Jimmy said with a frown. “I’m only getting the one kidney so that I can make some money selling the thing.”

“You know who you’re selling it to yet?”

“Haven’t thought about it really. Probably manual labour, that way it’s easier to keep track of where it ends up should I ever need it again.”

“You should get its face tattooed.” Dean said, with a contemplative look in his eyes. “Get its whole body tattooed, stops the whole creepy look-a-like aspect.”

“That’s why they have wings Dean.” Sam pointed out. Ellen had talked him through the process numerous times; she used to work in one of the clone printing companies, focusing specifically on the replication and proper modelling of the DNA. But she had also told him about how they attached the wings through a surgical procedure shortly after the printing process; it was really quite fascinating.

“Nah, the wings are so we can recognise clones from humans. It’s the tattoos that obscure the face. Otherwise it just looks like you with wings, and that’s just plain weird.” Dean argued, unfolding his legs and settling further into the seat.

“You have to pay for the tattoos though.” Jimmy said, his brows furrowing slightly.

“I’ll pay for it if you want.” Dean offered, his eyes softening. Sam smiled in agreement; he had some money that he could spare if Jimmy was having trouble.

“It’s fine, really. It’s not actually necessary you know, I’m not going to be seeing it at any point.” Jimmy said with a shrug, though his eyes glimmered with gratitude.

“No dude, this will be awesome.” Dean said with a grin, leaning forward in his chair. “I saw one that was tattooed to look like a dragon. And a few tattooed to look like demons. It’s so cool.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Jimmy said nervously. “Maybe. I’ll see.” He finished, with a slight chuckle. Dean’s grin encompassed the entirety of his face, his eagerness reminiscent of a five year old.

“Tattooing them is actually recommended; I know a guy who didn’t get his tattooed and he ended up finding porn of it online.” Sam pointed out, earning a faint snort of laughter from his brother. It was hardly an uncommon story, most people either chose to get their clones incinerated or mutilated after use so that there was nothing recognisable left. But then, not everyone had the money to do that.

“Yeah, I guess.” Jimmy agreed somewhat reluctantly. “Though I’m not planning to sell it into sexual labour; that just feels too weird at this point.” He added with an exaggerated shudder.

“It’s not like it’s you though. Ellen told me that due to the rapid growth their brains don’t form properly, so they’re basically just meat suits.” Sam explained, sensing the discomfort. Most people didn’t like seeing clones around, especially their own. But then, most people didn’t like dying of organ failure either. “It’s like when they say there’s at least six people in the world that look exactly like you, except this thing doesn’t even have a soul.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I remember learning that in school, but I’ve always found the idea a bit creepy. I don’t mind other clones, but it’s just the whole looking at an empty vessel of yourself that gives me bad vibes.” Jimmy admitted, fidgeting with his hands where they rested in his lap.

“What company are you using?”

“It’s Roman Clone Printing Industry.” Jimmy answered after a moment of thought. “They’re meant to be quite good, they deal with the clone under your instructions so you don’t even have to see the thing if you don’t want to.”

“Yeah, a lot of companies are doing that now.” Sam said with a nod. “Ellen said that it was a physiological thing- like with the delusional companion syndrome- it’s something to do with the brain struggling to process the clone as a conscious-less being because it looks too much like you and you start thinking of it as human. But then the rational part of your brain rebels against the subconscious part, so you end up feeling unsettled and disturbed.”

“Dude, you’re such a nerd.” Dean sighed, seemingly exasperated. Sam pointedly rolled his eyes in response.

“It is quite interesting though.” Jimmy defended with a smile, his gaze flicking between them. “How long are you two staying here?”

“Dean’s here for however long you can cope with him-“ Dean interrupted him by kicking his knee, to which Sam responded by slapping his hand away. “But I have to be gone by eleven ‘coz of this case I’m working on.” Sam replied with an apologetic sigh.

“Big case?” Jimmy asked, smiling at him to let him know it was fine.

“Not really...” Sam said, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not really something I’m allowed to talk about at this point.”

“Yeah, that’s totally not a big case.” Dean scoffed, earning him an unimpressed glare.

“It really isn’t. You’re just not allowed to talk about cases.” Sam explained, realising he was fighting a losing battle. It was actually an interesting case in itself, although it wouldn’t be easy to come up with a success. It was about a dispute between a so-called eco-terrorist and a logging company, only the eco-terrorist was claiming that he was being accused of things- such as assault- without reason. He was also claiming that the logging company was up to something illegal, and Sam found himself convinced that the man was telling the truth, even if he was a bit of a fruit-loop.

“That’s understandable.” Jimmy said, with a heated glance at Dean who raised his hands in surrender.

At that point the nurse came back in, and started to check that the dialysis machine was functioning as it should, and everything was going well. Sam noticed the way that his brother’s eyes lingered on the nurse for a while, his expression shifting into one of playful coyness that had the nurse shoot him a quick, but flirtatious smile. Sam didn’t even bother to roll his eyes this time, far too used to Dean and his displays of affection.

 

The alarm was whirring; its piercing sound rattled his chilled bones to their very core, his heart beat stuttering frightfully. Ahead of him he could vaguely make out one of his kin, but the world was a blur of movement as he forced his legs to work, the desperation of his mad dash clawing into him. All he could do was follow the movement of his kin, but the figure- he was certain it had to be Gabriel- was moving erratically, trying to evade the barrage of fire that rained down on them.

There was a cry of alarm behind him, one that distinctly belonged to Samandrial, but he could not look back. A bullet whizzed by his head, and his throat clenched painfully as he felt the bite of death all around him. He copied Gabriel’s earlier movements, rapidly changing his course of direction and continuing in a zigzagging motion as the bullets chased after him.

The courtyard was an explosion of noise and violence; the vicious barks of dogs filled the air, drowned out by an echoing chorus of shouts that were lost beneath the roar of gunfire. The air was charged with movement, almost impossible to keep track off as guards darted in and out, their gruesome dogs nipping at their heels. Other people- the ones in the lab coats- took cover wherever they could find, trembling with wide eyes as they watched the unprecedented scene play out.

He skidded to a halt as one of the dogs charged at him, rearing up on its hind legs as it lunged, its lips curled back to reveal hideous teeth. He swung out with the lug wrench he had managed to scavenge, the metal crashing into the beast’s jaw with a distinct crack, the bone caving in and squishing beneath the metal. The dog whined pitifully, before falling down into the snow with one final shudder.

His shoulder exploded in agony, the searing heat coursing down the limb as the muscle seemed to wither, his grip on his only weapon faltering until it clattered to the ground. It pulsed and throbbed, hot liquid gushing down his bicep and splattering onto his torso. He bit his lips to prevent a scream, feeling the metal of the bullet buried deep within the bone, each little movement causing the bullet to chip and chisel away at his body.

He raised his wings protectively around his body as another swarm of bullets flew by, the movement causing a flourish of pain down his spinal cord as the pull of the muscle tugged on his spine which was unable to compensate for the expanse of his wings. He leaped into action once more, his entire body burning with the ache of his dwindling energy, relying solely on the adrenaline which had overtaken his system.

He stumbled, nearly tripping over as another bullet lodged itself in the base of his wing, causing the black expanse to flare outwards, flapping wildly in agitation as the pain clambered to almost unbearable levels. Another bullet roared by and sank into the bone of his wing, the metal shattering the bone in a blast of searing agony, the wing flailing desperately as it fell to the side, almost toppling him over as it unbalanced him.

The concrete wall loomed ahead. It completely dwarfed the complex, blocking any view of the outside world. It was utterly smooth and un-climbable, but despite that there were spikes which rose up above the top, the sharpened tips glinting in the faint winter light.

Their only hope of escape was through the gate, which was now swarmed with guards. He pushed onwards anyway, knowing that a fate worse than death would greet him if he surrendered now.

But Gabriel was strong; he was lithe and compact, able to move swiftly but with a focused power that was giving him a sorely needed edge. Castiel rushed towards his brother, skirting away from the trail of bullets that traced his footsteps. Their eyes met and they both burst into action.

One of the men went to re-load, and Gabriel used the small window of opportunity to tackle the man to the ground, whilst Castiel diverted the attention of the other guards who were meant to be covering the fallen man. Gabriel and the man twisted frantically on the ground; Gabriel was on top, but he was also too injured to have the advantage. Yet Gabriel kept him pinned, his hands clawing into the man’s face desperately until the guard attempted to crawl away from the onslaught, dropping his gun in the process.

In an instant the gun was reloaded and the man was hurled to his feet, wrapped tightly against Gabriel’s torso with the gun digging into his skull. There was a moment of shock that ignited the air; but it was filled with trepidation, that threatened to erupt into something lethal in a matter of seconds. Castiel scuttled back to his brother’s side.

“Open the gate!” Gabriel growled, his voice absent of its usual silky tones. His golden eyes flashed, his face setting into a hard mask as his finger danced on the trigger.

The rest of the guards looked at one another, before cautiously lowering their guns. One at the back very carefully moved towards the gate and slowly unlocked it, his gaze flittering between the rest of his comrades. The gate creaked open, revealing an entirely different world that left him momentarily dazed with wonder.

He recognised trees, but he had never seen so many. They loomed together, their limbs twisting around one another to make a labyrinth of nature. The ground seemed softer, somehow moister than the ground within their prison, even with the layer of snow that settled over the top. Greenery peeked above the icy ground, a mirage of plants that he did not recognise somehow managing to survive the winter’s cold. But it was so large; it stretched on seemingly forever, the horizon only marked by a layer of more trees rather than high walls. Something deep within his cloned brain hissed the word _forest._

“Put your weapons on the ground.” Gabriel ordered, itching towards the now opened gate. The guards glared back at them, and for one horrifying second Castiel thought they were just about to be shot dead. But eventually they complied. He stayed close to Gabriel as they slowly made their way outside, their eyes trained on the guards who hovered over their guns.

“Take four steps back.” Gabriel added, a slight tremble encompassing on the strong words that only Castiel could pick up on. The men reluctantly did as they were told, though they were depressingly small steps.

Gabriel looked up at him, his eyes betraying his lingering sense of fear, before he pushed away the man in his arms and bolted towards the forest. Castiel ran with him, struggling to match his brother’s pace.

“Samandrial?” He called to the wind, his body trembling with the weight of everything that was happening. Gabriel did not look back at him, but instead grabbed his uninjured arm and essentially dragged them both forward, hurtling Castiel at a speed he could not have managed on his own.

They just about managed to dive into the cover of the forest before the roar of gunfire started up again.

Elsewhere Sam was chained to a desk, his eyes slowly raking the contents of the folder, trying to formulate a winning case. His client had been granted parole which was one small victory, but not nearly enough to guarantee the outcome of the case. It all depended on how lenient the judge and jury was.

There was no way that his client could be declared fully innocent, but he might be able to wrangle it so that there was no prison time. If they confessed straight away to the trespassing and sabotaging the vehicles, then they might be able to secure a lighter punishment, preferably just a fine. But they still needed a stronger case against the other charges.

He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose to try and get his head in gear. His office was bathed in the orange glow of light from the lamp, just enough to keep the shadows cordoned off to edges of the room. The rest of the building was shrouded in dusk, only the faintest sounds suggesting anyone was still around. He glanced down at his watch with a frown; it was getting late, and he doubted his boss would be pleased about paying him for more overtime.

He carefully placed the rest of the papers back into the folder and secured it tightly with a rubber band, before placing it in a drawer which he quickly locked. He contemplated bringing a few of the papers home with him, but he doubted his mind would be up to looking at them properly. Instead he resigned himself to researching in order to see if there were any similar cases which could aid him with this one.

Grabbing his briefcase he turned off the light and closed the door behind him. Only a few people were in the main part of the building, but they were too engrossed in their own work to pay him any heed. He walked onwards until he got into the lift and headed for the ground floor.

There was no-one down here except for the security guard who barely acknowledged his presence anyway. The secretaries and consultants had all retired home for the day, leaving the building looking rather deserted. He slipped out of the front door and into the cool night air.

He ran, scrambling to keep upright as his legs threatened to slip out beneath him as he battled the elements. The wind roared around him, the bare trees providing little shelter against the teeth-chattering cold that engulfed him. His injured wing trembled against his side; he only just about had the strength to keep it from dragging along the ground and tripping him. His other wing was wrapped around his exposed torso, the feathers dancing along his skin as they tried desperately to instil some sense of warmth and comfort.

He didn’t know where Gabriel was. The skeletal forest kept everything shrouded from view; the noises of pursuit and gunfire echoed chaotically around him with no traceable source. He’d been running for too long, he could feel the burn of his muscles as he struggled onwards, the threat of imminent collapse looming over him.

But he hurtled forward nonetheless, knowing that he couldn’t stop now. Night had already descended upon them and with it the beginning of a snowstorm. Snowflakes whirled around him, floating peacefully in the air before being trampled underfoot. A few of them reached his skin, melting on contact but stealing his limited warmth. A shiver coursed through his being and he knew that he needed to find shelter.

Except there was nowhere to go; the forest which at first had seemed beautiful in its vastness, now provided him with no cover. The trees were bare. The snow had killed any shrubbery, preventing him from even being able to take shelter in a bush. And the forest seemed to stretch on forever with no noticeable landmarks; no caves to hide in, not even a vague dip in the ground to cower in.

“This way.” Gabriel growled, appearing from behind a border of gnarled trees, the cries of angry men following him. Shots rained down upon them, one of the trees erupting in an explosion of shattered bark. Gabriel grabbed his wrist and pulled, yanking Castiel along behind him.

He could hear the crunch of snow as the soldiers charged after them, but he didn’t dare look back. Gabriel kept moving, momentarily releasing his grip on Cas’ wrist so that they could both run faster without the risk of tripping one another up.

The spaces between the trees started to grow, and steadily they found themselves running up a gentle slope. The snow tumbled beneath their feat, almost throwing him backwards if it wasn’t for Gabriel yanking on his wrist again. There was no protection here and with a renewed eagerness their vision was clouded with a barrage of bullets. Castiel raised his one good wing over his head and scrambled forward, the snow exploding into the air beside them.

Suddenly the ground beneath their feet hardened, the concrete completely devoid of any trace of snow. Their feet slipped on the icy road, but they managed to keep one another upright. For a moment they were drenched in light, the roar of an engine coursing towards them. They scuttled backwards as the car skidded past them, its tires screeching as it tried to brake to avoid them, the air-splitting cry of a horn riveting angrily towards them as the car swerved, before regaining itself and carrying on.

Their eyes followed the direction of the car; the road trailed downwards in a winding spiracle pattern, towards a place in the distance which shimmered with unnatural light. There was very little detail they could make out from here as they stared at the far away town, the only thing illuminated in the dark night.

“Split up!” Gabriel yelled beneath the roar of the bullets, pushing Castiel to the other side of the road where the forest continued undisturbed. Castiel raced forwards, diving into the minimal cover of the trees as the ground was ripped apart with a trail of bullets. He didn’t move until he saw Gabriel retreat back into the other side of the forest, before he continued to sprint onwards, his feet following the winding trail of the road.

After a while he managed to outrun the men, disappearing from their eyesight. He could still hear them however; they weren’t particularly loud, but the unnatural silence of the forest and the crunch of the frost underfoot meant that sound travelled far too easily. They were getting closer, but they didn’t seem to be full out sprinting to catch him, the knowledge of which settled uneasily within him.

The wind began to pick up, his hair swaying frantically and the feathers of his wings rustling beneath its strength. Even the trees started to tremble, a few chunks of snow plopping to the ground as the limbs of the trees were disturbed. He continued to run, but the wind was a violent onslaught now and he found himself unable to maintain his previously quick pace.

It wasn’t until he was soaked in the bright spotlight that he realised it wasn’t just the wind causing these disturbances, but the rotors of the helicopter that circled above him. He forfeited his sight of the road and instead charged deeper into the forest, where the trees grew taller and their limbs intertwined. Bullets crashed around him in a rapid fire, the forest quaking from the power of the machine gun.

The helicopter flew higher, the trees refusing to allow it to penetrate any lower. It did not prevent the continued roar of bullets that erupted violently around him, although most settled in the scarred bark of the trees that provided some shelter. Regardless, the light trailed him, no matter how much deeper he escaped into the forest. There was no way he could outrun the helicopter.

The wind howled through the forest and for a moment the gunfire ceased. He glanced up to watch as the helicopter tilted slightly, turning in the air before it seemed to regain itself. Snowflakes fell to the ground, gradually increasing in quantity until his vision was diminished in a cloud of white. He clambered through the snowstorm that was beginning to reach a crescendo, trying to avoid the bullets that rained down upon him. But it seemed that the gunman was also blinded by the snow and the helicopter was shaking in the sky, its movement too jittery to be fully safe.

He trembled, the snow pelting his frozen body ferociously, his skin rapidly growing numb as any lingering heat was sapped away. There was one final barrage of gunfire which narrowly scraped past him, except for one bullet that collided with his shin. He bit down on his lips, muffling his cry of pain as his leg buckled and he collapsed to the ground. He scrambled onto his back, wincing at the movement and preparing for the final fatal shot.

However, the helicopter shuddered in the sky and it fell a few inches, brushing past the tips of the trees before the pilot fought to lift it back up. He could only see its shadowed form through the snow that blinded him, but he watched as the helicopter moved away, presumably returning to the flat road where it was safe for it to land. He exhaled sharply before struggling onto his feet, knowing that his escape was far from over.

The snowstorm that had just saved his life now threatened to end it as his body temperature plummeted. His feet slipped out from beneath him as he tried to fight his way forwards, his injured leg trembling too much to hold his weight. Blood trailed from the wound, staining the white ground beneath him, which was quickly covered by fresh snow. His whole skin had adopted a worrying grey hue, his extremities almost devoid of sensation.

He couldn’t see where he was going; he tried to battle his way back to the road, but his senses were completely disorientated. He didn’t know whether he was still being followed; the yowling of the wind muffled all other sounds. He just pushed onwards, hoping beyond hope that he would find his way. But even if he could he didn’t know what he’d be able to do if he even made it to the town. He just needed somewhere warm to hide.

By some miracle he managed to catch sight of the road; it was no longer free from snow, but it was considerably less deep than the snow which coated the forest floor. He scrambled out of the forest and stumbled down the road, straining his gaze to see whether he could even locate the town, but everything was just clouded with a white haze.

His injured foot was just dragging along the ground now as he limped onwards, unable to run the rest of the way. If someone was able to find him amongst the white chaos, then he would not be able to survive. He did however resolve to make it as hard as possible for whoever it was that caught him. If that was the last act of defiance he could manage, than he would kick and scream until his life force was diminished.

But he continued undisturbed, everyone else having cowered away from the ferocious elements that clawed at him, unravelling him and making him come undone. His injuries stung, and his head lurched dangerously, his vision swimming around him as the adrenaline started to seep away. He was drenched in blood, shrouded in pain and misery, and he had no idea where he was going.

He struggled on for about ten minutes more before he reached the first sign of life; the forest started to dissipate around him, instead replaced by concrete buildings that stretched lazily into the sky. He stumbled once more, the energy draining from his body as he contemplated just collapsing and letting unconsciousness claim him.

His fingers were red and it felt like they were being pierced repeatedly with tiny daggers. His feet were not faring any better, especially not his injured one that was trailing uselessly, as he now lacked the strength to even lift it slightly. His body was wracked with violent shudders, but it failed to warm him at all, the depth of his core ostensibly coated in a layer of ice.

His eyelids drooped, and a few times his vision seemed to fade completely before he was able to shake it off for a few seconds. His mind whirled with white static, and he was aware of the heaviness of his body whilst simultaneously feeling like he might drift away. He knew his body was about to give up at any second, but there was nowhere he could go unless Gabriel managed to find him. If Gabriel was still alive.

There was a flash of light that slowly slivered over his form, followed by the gentle crunch of snow as a car rolled towards him. He halted, knowing that there was no where he could go as the car came to a halt. His eyes closed, not bothering to turn around as he heard the stranger approach, waiting for the cock of the gun to send him into oblivion.

“Sir, are you okay?” The slightly gravelly, but gentle voice took him by surprise and he flinched at the concern held within the tone. The movement caused his good wing to shudder slightly from where it was pressed up against his side, minutely expanding as it instinctively opened. He heard the man exhale, and the snow crunched again as the stranger took a few shocked steps backwards.

He turned, his wing flaring slightly even whilst his injured wing just hung limply at his side. The man who stood before him had soft hazel eyes, which were blown wide with something akin to mistrust. His brows furrowed, and a flash of recognition shone in his eyes for a moment, his jaw becoming slack. His long brown hair blew in the wind, making his face seem younger and almost softer in a way.

Castiel tilted his head, waiting for the man to lash out, but nothing happened. They stared at each other in silence for a moment, before the man blinked and took a careful step forward. Castiel took a couple more steps back, frowning at the man warily.

The man chewed on his bottom lip, before raising his hand in a gesture that Cas recognised as a sign of peace despite the fact he had never seen the gesture before. The man took a minute step forward, and Cas felt his wing twitch fearfully but he stayed in place. The man stopped, glancing at his wing curiously.

“You’re injured?” The man said, his tone bordering on worried. Castiel scrambled backwards a few steps, unable to trust that this man had no ulterior motives for his concern. “I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.” He added, and if Cas didn’t know better he would think that the man was telling the truth. The man stared at him for a few seconds, something flashing in his eyes as crinkled lines appeared over his forehead. “Can you understand what I’m saying?” He asked anxiously.

"Yes.” Castiel answered, his voice hoarse and weak as it slipped past his chattering teeth. The man’s eyes widened and he straightened to his full impressive height. Castiel realised that the man must have been almost crouching until this point. Castiel met the man’s eyes, watching as the stranger breathed heavily, his features painted with unease.

“How...” The man stuttered, running a hand through his wild hair. Castiel frowned, but his attention was diverted inwards as another shiver ran through his form. Blood oozed down his torso from where the bullet had bitten into his shoulder, and there was no adrenaline to push him through the wave of nausea.

“Are you...?” The man started to ask, his confusion replaced with honest concern, but Castiel was too busy rubbing at his eyes, trying to stop the world swaying around him. The man continued to speak, but the words were beyond him now, the weakness infecting every muscle in his body before he felt something shatter within him. The colour drained from his face as his body swayed gently, before his knees buckled beneath him and he tumbled to the ground, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he collapsed, his body surrendering to his exhaustion and leaving him in darkness.

When Sam had left his office car park, the snow had only just been starting to fall. He trailed along carefully, the road coated in a thin layer of ice that even buckets of salt could not penetrate. It wasn’t too unusual to get snow up here, but outside he heard the wind being to howl, causing his car to swerve slightly before he reined it in.

He slowed his car to about 10mph when the snow greatly increased in quantity, blurring away most of his surroundings from view. Even with his headlights on at full power, he could not see more than a few feet in front of him. He wasn’t particularly fond of driving in these conditions, able to feel from the stuttering lurches the car gave that he did not have the control he would have liked.

He briefly wondered whether Dean was on patrol, although he really hoped not. Dean wasn’t as reckless on the job as he was in the Impala, but Sam knew that his brother wasn’t one to pay too much attention to safe driving conditions. At least he wouldn’t be out on his own. Besides, he didn’t think there would be too much crime tonight, the weather conditions just wouldn’t seem to permit it.

He continued on at a snail’s pace as he reached the outskirts of town; the roads were covered with a thick layer of fresh snow, which hadn’t had the chance to be cleared from these lesser used roads. His wheels rolled over the white expanse easily enough, his car having been built with these ridiculous weather conditions in mind.

He was only a few minutes from his home when he saw a figure in the distance. He leaned forward, his foot already pressing down on the brakes as his headlights swarmed the figure who seemed to be stumbling aimlessly. He stopped the car with a frown, staring at the man who was literally just walking along the middle of the road. He at least seemed to be wrapped in a furry coat, but it was still far too cold to be walking around outside. The man froze, and it was then that he noticed the way that he stood at a strange angle, his foot hanging crookedly along the ground.

He climbed out of the car warily, wondering whether this man was a camper who had been caught unaware by the storm and had gotten injured. It was possible; it wouldn’t be the first time someone had gone up to the forest and fallen foul of the weather. Or maybe he was just drunk. Whatever it was, the man was clearly having trouble staying upright and was obviously injured if the blood that coated his twisted ankle was anything to go by.

“Sir, are you okay?” He asked when the man failed to move. There was a sliver of movement along his back as his coat rustled in the wind. But then the coat seemed to peel away from his back, exposing an expanse of grey skin. The coat folded like a disfigured arm before Sam was able to process what he was seeing.

He stumbled backwards, exhaling sharply as he watched the wing expand in front of him. It wasn’t the first time he had come across a clone; but he knew how dangerous they could be if they were not controlled. And this one was so injured and it was obviously alone, that it probably would attack him.

He was contemplating darting back into his car and doing a public service by running the thing over to finish it, when it turned around to face him. Sam froze, staring into familiar blue eyes. His jaw fell slack, and he bit back the name on his lips because he knew it wasn’t Jimmy he was looking at, but it was his clone. This meant that Sam couldn’t just run the thing over, because the company would not make him a new clone.

But the more he looked, the greater the differences became. This thing was holding itself completely differently; Jimmy tended to hunch himself over slightly, his presence typically reserved. But this thing, despite being injured, held itself so much straighter. Its presence stretched onwards, its blue eyes glowing with a spark of desperation, but still holding something defiant within its depth. Even its face was harder; the laughter lines that were around Jimmy’s eyes had been transformed into deep and seemingly sterner crevices, which highlighted the contours of its face giving it a menacing look. Whereas Jimmy’s face looked soft and inviting, this thing was all jagged lines and sharp features. It looked dangerous.

Then the thing tilted its head, its wing huddling closer to its body as the thing shivered. Its eyes flashed with a curiosity that seemed far beyond its mental capacities, and the sense of danger seemed to evaporate as he met the thing’s blue eyes. They stared at one another for a moment, before the thing started to sway in a worrying manner. He blinked, breaking the gaze as he took a few steps forward, knowing he needed to get the clone out of the cold if it were to be of any use to Jimmy.

Except the clone startled, and tumbled backwards a few steps, its wing flaring out in warning. Sam stopped, glaring at the large feathered appendage, but his gaze travelled back up to the thing’s frightened face. Some protective urge stirred inside of him as he watched the creature frown, so human in its movement, and so obviously afraid.

He chewed on his bottom lip, thinking carefully about his next course of action. The clone was essentially a wounded animal, so there was still the potential that it would lash out of him. But at the moment it just seemed scared. He raised his hands carefully, and shuffled forward very slowly. Its wing twitched, and he stared at it cautiously, staying completely still as he waited for the ruffled feathers to settle.

“You’re injured?” He said, more to himself than the creature who wouldn’t have understood anyway. His eyes trailed over the expanse of the clone’s torso which was drenched in blood that seeped from both its shoulder and from where its left wing trembled pitifully at his side. Its body was covered in scrapes and bruises, and its complexion was a sickly pale colour.

“I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.” He added instinctively as the thing scrambled backwards, its eyes widening fearfully. The thing stopped, and stared at him questioningly, its gaze racking his body as though it was trying to peel Sam apart to figure out if he was telling the truth. His brows furrowed, staring at the thing with confusion. “Can you understand what I’m saying?”

“Yes.” The thing answered, and he startled, his eyes widening and his breath hitching in his throat. The clone just continued to stare at him, as though it hadn’t just defied every rule of science by actually being able to understand and communicate in any meaningful way. Clones were essentially mindless zombies, but this one was...it was something else, surely?

“How...” He stuttered, running a hand through his hair, his fingers tugging at the loose strands. The clone frowned, before its previously bright gaze was overtaken by a clouded fog, another shudder running along its form. Sam felt his stomach knot itself into balls of anxiety, trying to figure out what the hell he was meant to be doing.

He stared at the clone, trying to figure out what had gone wrong to make this thing able to...understand. They weren’t meant to be intelligent. They weren’t even meant to be alive, certainly not capable of complex emotions. They were just physical shells to be harvested or used for labour. They weren’t...they couldn’t be...

His mental unravelling was interrupted as he watched the clone stumble ever so slightly, its body overtaken by violent tremors. He blinked, watching as the thing struggled to keep its eyes open, its wings hanging limp and loose by its side whereas before they had been tightly pressed against its skin. Somehow the clone had managed to adopt an even paler hue.

“Are you...?” He started, taking a few steps forward, but pausing as he tried to access whether it would be safe for him to intervene. “What’s wrong with you?” He asked, his pupils blown wide as he watched the clone be overtaken with exhaustion. It didn’t even react, just continued to rub uselessly at its own drooping eyes. “I don’t know what to do... You need to be somewhere warm...” He stuttered, his thoughts whirring manically through his mind. What he needed to do was contact the authorities to take this thing back into captivity.

But then the clone collapsed, its legs falling out from beneath it and leaving it sprawled out across the road. He didn’t even think before he found himself rushing towards the trembling form, placing a hand on the creature’s neck to check its vitals. It was still breathing, albeit far too shallowly to be healthy. But its skin was like ice to the touch. It needed to be warmed up immediately.

He massaged the bridge of his nose; he needed to call the authorities. This was an unprecedented situation, but he was pretty certain that taking possession of a clone without legal permission was breaking the law to the extreme. But then...this thing was aware. It was intelligent beyond that of what clones should be. Clearly something had gone wrong during its development...he couldn’t let this thing be treated as other clones were. He had met other clones, and he had seen the emptiness behind their eyes. But this thing... it was so alive.

He glanced around him; the night had settled fully upon them, and the world seemed devoid of life as everyone took shelter from the ferocious snowstorm. There was no one here who would be able to report him. There was no one here who needed to know. He could take this thing to his house and work out the situation from there, once he knew it was no longer on the verge of death.

Moving quickly, he lifted the clone into his arms. It stirred, a ghost of a pained gasp brushing past the skin of his arm as the thing huddled deeper into his chest. Its wings pressed up against its body as Sam pressed the two limbs close to the clone’s chest so that they were out of the way. It was lighter than he had expected, which was a small relief as he carefully shuffled the thing into the backseat of his car. He pulled the two seatbelts over its unconscious form, before climbing into the front seat himself and starting the engine.

He struggled to tear his eyes away from the reflection of the thing in his backseat, suddenly breathing heavily as he wondered what would happen if the thing woke up now. Would it attack him? His heart thundered in his chest and he glanced at his phone which sat on the passenger seat next to him, contemplating whether he should just park the car and call someone to take this thing away from him.

But it looked too pitiful. Every now and again it would give soft little noises of pain, its body shuddering violently which was merely accentuated by the vibrations of the engine. Its dark hair was plastered to its forehead, soaked through with ice water and coated in a layer of dirt and grime. It was naked aside from the loose fitting grey leggings, which were too thin to have been of any use against the elements.

Right here, right now, this thing was anything but dangerous. Just looking at it pulled on his heartstrings and invoked a surge of protective energy. Perhaps if it didn’t look so much like Jimmy he wouldn’t be reacting in this way; but the thing had talked. The thing had understood and that was far more than any other clone he had met.

Maybe he could research this. It might have been some random mutation that gave it its human-like intelligence; if so he needed to prove that was the case before he let anyone know he was keeping the thing in his possession. Maybe this had happened before, and if so he needed to find out what had happened to those subjects.

Vaguely he remembered a case he had worked on years ago. The man had unlawfully taken a clone, claiming that its owners were abusive and shouldn’t be allowed to be in charge of such things. His plea had been overlooked, as it was universally agreed that clones did not have souls. They did not have the capacity for emotions. The way they were created made that impossible. Whilst animals had some rights, clones did not. Clones were just sophisticated inanimate objects that existed to make human life easier. The man had eventually pleaded insanity and been transferred for psychiatric treatment.

Sam wondered whether he was going insane. Everything about this situation was impossible, but he knew that he hadn’t imagined what had taken place. This clone was different; he didn’t know why, or how, but it was. Maybe Ellen could help him out...could he trust her not to report him?

His hands tightened on the steering wheel as he caught sight of his house looming in the distance. He couldn’t take the risk with trusting anyone at the moment, not when the thing was in such dire need for help. It wasn’t like it would be granted medical attention; it was much more likely to be incinerated as damaged property. No, if he could get this thing back to health than he could get it to Jimmy and that would be that.

The car rolled to a halt on the street outside his house. Everything was still deserted, and even if the neighbours were peaking out of the window, they wouldn’t be able to see much beyond the snow that crashed through the sky. He wondered whether the storm would become a blizzard before the night was up. Judging by the manic yowling of the wind he knew that it was probably inevitable.

He fought his way to the front door, the key shockingly cold in his grasp as he fiddled with the lock. It took a moment for him to feel the distinct click; he pushed the door open and switched on the lights before turning his attention back to the car.

Satisfied that there was still no one else around, he hastily opened the car door and extracted the clone from the back seat. It wasn’t shuddering quite as violently as it had been, but Sam knew enough about hypothermia to recognise that that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. He traced his hand up and down the thing’s exposed arm in a gesture that was more instinctive than comforting as he hauled the thing through the front door of his house, kicking it shut behind him.

He contemplated settling it down on the couch, before he decided that it would fare a lot better on his bed where he had an electric blanket already set up. Besides, he still didn’t trust the thing not to attack him the minute it woke up, and it would be a lot easier to secure it to the bed frame. He readjusted his grip on the clone before making his way up the stairs.

He gently set the clone on the bed, watching as it folded itself into a fetal position, its one good wing moving to wrap around its torso. He smiled softly before he could help himself, just something about this creature was so endearing. But he needed to focus on keeping this thing alive; he knew where most of the main injuries were, so he needed to get to work.

When he was a child, his father being the paranoid nutcase that he was, had taught them all about treating wounds with minimal supplies. He’d never really got used to civilian life after he’d been in the army, and after the untimely death of their mother, he had been convinced that something was out to get them. That somehow, the war had followed him home and was threatening his family.

Sam had detested his father for it; for treating them far more like soldiers than his young sons. But that wasn’t to say that Sam found the lessons completely useless. His dad for all his insanity was very smart. And Sam would be lying if he said the lessons hadn’t helped in the past when one of them got injured, and couldn’t afford to go to the hospital because dad had once again wasted their money on ammunition or alcohol.

Now he was unbelievably thankful that his father had seen fit to teach them how to care for bullet wounds; it wasn’t like he could take the clone to a hospital, so he needed to treat it himself. He gathered a few supplies; some tweezers which he quickly sterilized over the hob, followed by a needle and thread, some gauze, some antiseptic salve, a wet sponge, a few towels and a bottle of water.

He manoeuvred the clone onto its back carefully stretching out its wings; the right one managed to lay flat, encompassing most of the bed with just the tip of it dangling over the edge. The left wing could only be pulled about halfway, and the movement caused the clone to hiss in its sleep, the wing weakly trying to pry itself away. Still, it was out of Sam's way now.

He peeled the soaked and battered leggings away from the clone’s legs, revealing grey skin underneath that bristled with goose bumps. Its legs seemed much more muscular than Jimmy’s were, although he had never really paid much attention to Jimmy’s physical body. The thing was also wearing some slightly damp and unflattering white boxers, and Sam felt his face flush pink before deciding that he was willing to risk the thing becoming infertile by not stripping it completely naked.

With most of its body now fully exposed he ran the wet sponge along the creature’s torso, frowning as the dark red water seeped onto the bed. He washed away as much as he could, most of the blood having already dried and been caked in a fresh layer of grime, which oozed away from the skin. Beneath it he could see a multitude of scratches; they were small and on their own unimpressive, but they absolutely littered the thing’s body. They weren’t deep enough to be of any real concern, but he was pretty sure that the clone must have accumulated them when he had presumably sprinted through the forest, the trees and brambles whipping its skin mercilessly. Beneath the cuts were even older scars, not more than a couple of days, but already healed into red and jagged lines. Amongst them was a dotting of purple and blue bruises, of varying shapes and sizes, not dark enough to be reflective of any internal injury, but they were clearly painful.

He threw the sponge to the side and retrieved the towels, which he rubbed along the clone’s body, trying to soak up the dampness that clung to its skin which was drastically lowering its temperature. Satisfied that it was as dry as he could get it, he then applied a generous amount of antiseptic salve over the open cuts.

He then turned his attention to the more serious wounds, which thankfully weren’t bleeding as much as they could have been. The most obvious was the one on his shoulder; the skin around the wound was a darkening shade of grey, appearing dry and cracked. A dollop of pus clung to the jagged edges of the wound, seeping down the creature’s bicep, along with what was now a significantly slower trail of blood.

The wound was at the very top of the shoulder and thankfully it had missed the major arteries that were interconnected within the shoulder, but it seemed quite clear that the bullet had pierced the bone. Even so, it seemed to have just managed to sliver pass it, albeit ostensibly chipping or shattering it in the process. There was even an exit wound, which was only slightly larger than the entrance wound, the bullet only having to travel a few inches to escape the body.

He pierced the bottle of water with the needle, and then squeezed it over the wound, the water spurting from the small hole at a high pressure. It slivered through the bottle’s hole, managing to evacuate a large blob of pus. He focused another spray of water on the exit wound, watching the water seep back out alongside some muddy and yellowish bile.

He bathed the wound in the antiseptic salve, knowing that he couldn’t fully close the wound until all the pus had escaped. It wasn’t bleeding too much, but he still firmly covered it with the gauze, allowing some space for the pus to seep out of the body, but not letting any harmful microbes in. He would need to keep an eye on it to ensure the wound stayed clean.

He repeated the process on the wound in the shin, but this one was a lot worse. It hadn’t pierced any arteries and it was nowhere near any vital organs, but it was still bleeding profusely and he couldn’t find the exit wound. It was likely that the bullet was still firmly lodged into the bone, which left him a question of whether he should try to extract it or not.

The bullet itself wasn’t likely to cause an infection, but it might cause some problems with the healing process which would make the clone unable to walk properly. But it wasn’t on a joint- at least, he didn’t think so- which made the risk of trying to retrieve it far greater than the risk of retaining it. He could try and get it out, but without the proper equipment it would just cause more problems.

He decided to leave the bullet in place and wait to see what happened. He applied another generous amount of antiseptic salve, but as this wound was bleeding far more and wasn’t releasing any pus, he opted instead to quickly stitch it up. He grabbed the needle which he had already sterilized, and carefully pierced the skin, pinching the edges of the wound together as he worked quickly to sow it up.

His hands were drenched in blood by the time he was done, but the wound was secure and looked free from infection. The only other injuries left to treat was in the clone’s wings, which was one body part that he had no experience with treating. He wasn’t completely sure what he was meant to do with a wing, other than perhaps asking a vet, although they might then insist that he brought the 'bird' into their clinic. 

His hands brushed over the ruffled feathers; they weren’t as soft as they appeared. A lot of them were tangled together, creating rough bumps along the length of the wings, which tugged at his fingers as they scraped by. The skin beneath the feathers was leathery, and almost jagged to the touch. It was slightly flaky, though the more his fingers explored the limb, the more he realised that it had been coated in a thick layer of hardening dust.

He didn’t know how to even go about trying to clean the feathers, so he focused his attention on the two wounds he could find. The first was barely a wound at all; the bullet had gone straight through, leaving a tear in the thin membrane of the wing, which was now splattered with blood but otherwise seemed to be of little concern. He applied the antiseptic salve, the cream sticking to the feathers and causing them to clump together, before he secured the gauze around both the entrance and the exit wound.

The second wound was seemingly catastrophic; blood was plastered right where the wing refused to straighten out any further, the edge of it hanging crooked and limp from this place. He could feel the way that the bone grinded together, evidence that it had been completely shattered by the bullet. The bullet itself had managed to penetrate through the bone and the wing completely, though the exit wound was gruesome, red skin hung limply from the wound.

He didn’t know whether it was a compound fracture or not; and even if it was, there wasn’t anything he could really do but try to treat it in the same way he had treated all the other injures. He washed it out with about two litres of water, before he smeared it with antiseptic cream. He applied gauze to the wound, wrapping it tight as he felt the bone start to move around under the skin. He then thought to roll one of the unused towels up into a long tube-like structure, and secured it to the misplaced bone with several layers of duct tape, essentially splintering it in the only way he could without taking the thing to a proper hospital.

He took a step back and surveyed his handiwork. The clone looked markedly cleaner, and seemed so much healthier now that it was no longer coated in blood and dirt. But its skin was still too grey, and when he traced his fingers along the creature’s bicep it still felt like ice to the touch. It was still shivering, but they were just little intermittent shudders now that could easily be missed if one was not looking for them.

He had switched the electric blanket off the moment he started cleaning the wounds, but the mattress itself was still quite warm. And the heating was on, filling the room with a cosy warmth that danced happily along his skin. But it didn’t seem to be enough to heat the clone up to safer temperatures; it had probably already succumbed to hypothermia which gave Sam very limited options about what to do next.

Remembering the potential risk that the clone posed he disappeared into the spare room, searching through the boxes that littered the room until he could find what he was looking for. He lifted up a pair of fluffy handcuffs, remembering the grin and eyebrow waggle that Dean had given him when he revealed what Sam’s Christmas present was (later when they had been alone, Dean had revealed that his real present was a remarkably expensive watch).

He tested the strength and found them unyielding. He sighed, imaging what Dean’s reaction would be if he ever found out that his joke gift had come in handy after all. But it wasn’t like he was the sort of person to have real handcuffs just lying around, or any other form of restraints for that matter. The clone probably wouldn’t even be aware of the connotations. He returned to his room where the clone had failed to move. He grabbed one of its wrists and secured it to the bed frame, letting its arm come to rest above its head. He stared at the injured shoulder, and instead decided to secure that wrist to the handholds at the side of the mattress so that it wouldn’t have to stretch the wound.

Knowing that the creature was now fastened securely and wouldn’t be able to harm him, he slowly started to peel away his own clothes. The clone was still too cold, and unfortunately he knew of only one way to effectively warm it up. He dumped his clothes unceremoniously at the side of his bed, before anxiously crawling into the space next to the clone.

He flinched away from the initial contact, the shock of how cold the clone truly was overtaking him for a moment, before he forced himself to edge closer. He shuffled them around until he could lift the blood stained cover over the both of them, making sure to wrap his body around the clone despite how much he was blushing. The clone nestled closer to him, its body subconsciously seeking out any source of heat. Sam let the dark mop of hair burrow into his neck, before he reluctantly closed his eyes, knowing he was too tired to lie here all night without going to sleep.

Castiel blearily opened his eyes, his uneasy trek into consciousness accompanied by a ringing headache. He groaned, trying to wade through the thick fog in his mind to recall what had happened. A touch of sunlight trickled over his skin, the heat of the room suffocating in its embrace as he fought to open his eyes fully.

He was staring at a ceiling; not the unwelcoming grey concrete he was used to, but this one was painted in a soothing tone of white, no cracks to be seen, just a few blemishes in the paintwork. He blinked groggily, his eyes trailing along the blue walls of the room, almost glowing in the faint light that crept under the purple blinds. A cupboard stood pressed up against the far end of the room, next to it a full length mirror and a desk where stacks of neatly organised paperwork rested. At the end of the bed a small television hung from the wall and he stared at it curiously, having some sense of what it did, but never having experienced it for himself.

He tried to struggle into a sitting position, but the bed frame rattled as restraints tugged at his wrists and forced him back down. A surge of panic choked him as he yanked on the cuffs that enclosed his wrists, unable to get the momentum he needed to snap them. The bed shuddered, thumping against the wall as he flailed uselessly in his restraints.

He didn’t realize he had been shouting until a large hand was forced over his mouth, muffling his desperate cries. He stared up at wide hazel eyes, the memory of the night before ramming itself into the front of his mind. He fell still, his heart thundering in his chest as he stared at the man, noticing how he had stripped down to just his boxers, before he became aware of his own exposed body. He bit into the man’s hand and kicked up, catching the man off guard and throwing him onto the floor with a thud.

“No, don’t! Not this...please don’t!” He screamed, trying to yank his arms free, but the restraints held strong. He whimpered, disgusted at himself for his own weakness but unable to help the fear that clawed at him. He caught a glance of the handcuffs that held him still, his stomach twisting fearfully as he recognised the sexual implications of those sort of restraints. His breath hitched, a sob ripping itself from his throat as hot tears clambered down his cheeks.

He tried to clamp his mouth shut, but the man grabbed a hold of his jaw and forced the tie inside, tying it behind his head as a makeshift gag. His cry of protest was muffled by the gag and he collapsed onto the bed, knowing that he wouldn’t be audible to anyone outside of this room. He was unable to suppress a shiver as the man’s hand gently caressed his face, brushing away the tears.

“Listen to me; I’m not going to hurt you.” The man promised, his voice thick with sleep, but still holding a lighter quality to it. Castiel whimpered around the gag, throwing his head back into the pillow and slamming his eyes shut. He startled as he felt a hand run over his hair, smoothing down the ruffled mess. The man frowned, retracting his hand at the sight of Cas’ panic. “All I did last night was clean and bandage your wounds. I’m only trying to help.”

Castiel glared at him; he wasn’t a fool as this man seemed to believe. No one was ‘only trying to help’ clones unless they had ulterior motives, and Cas knew that the fact he was secured partially naked to the man’s bed was very suggestive of what this man’s ulterior motives were. And he had no desire to be this man’s, or any man’s, slave. He knew he’d been unconscious, positively comatose the night before, and the chances were that this man had taken advantage of that.

“Look don’t scream or anything; I shouldn’t really be helping you, and you’re just going to cause problems for both of us if you attract too much attention.” The man explained, his eyes narrowing speculatively. Castiel breathed heavily around the gag, his eyes brimming with distrust. “I’m Sam by the way. Which probably doesn’t mean anything to you...” Sam added, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

He continued to glare, furrowing his brows at what the man- Sam- was seemingly suggesting. Sam sighed, before his fingers gently tucked themselves under the gag and yanked it over his chin. The moment he was able to talk he kicked Sam away and yelled something nonsensical, the words failing to form properly in his panic. He didn’t believe a word that Sam was saying, and he certainly was not going to lie here and do nothing.

Sam cursed and barged passed his flailing legs to firmly wrap his large hand around Cas’ mouth, struggling to get the makeshift gag back in as Cas tried desperately to squirm out of his grip, but there was nowhere for him to go. His screech of protest was captured by the gag that was forced back into his mouth. He coughed and spluttered around the intrusion, but he could not expel the gag.

Sam leapt to his feet, stalking over to the television and turning it on at full volume. Castiel watched startled as images appeared on the screen, the roar of people shouting erupting throughout the room. It remained at its staggeringly loud volume for a few moments, before Sam started to turn it down to a more comfortable level, glancing at the walls of his room anxiously.

“Jesus Christ, you can’t keep doing that.” Sam hissed, his frustration sharpening his voice and making Cas freeze fearfully on the bed. “You were dying when I found you, and legally speaking I should have called the authorities, but I didn’t. I took you into my house instead and saved your life for some insane reason. If you keep yelling for help who do you think will come? It won’t be anyone looking to help you. The moment they see what’s going on I get arrested and you’ll probably be incinerated so just stop yelling and think for a moment, because the only goddamn reason I was so stupid as to risk my neck for you was because I thought you had some spark of intelligence beyond that of what clones are meant to have.” Sam growled, his eyes flashing in an animalistic way, his arms gesticulating wildly. His voice grinded passed taut vocal chords as he tried to prevent himself from shouting.

Sam took a step towards the bed and Castiel flinched violently, expecting to be hit or raped, or probably both. Instead Sam paused, his face falling as the anger trickled away. Sam glanced at the ground, his hands balling into fists as he inhaled deeply, before looking back up, his eyes softening.

“I’m sorry...I didn’t mean to get angry, I’m just...I’m not used to this situation and I’m not really sure what I’m meant to be doing. This whole thing could go so wrong and I’m just out of my depth here...” Sam whispered, dragging a weary hand down his face. “I honestly do want to help you; I know you don’t believe me, but can’t you see that your only real option is to trust me?” Sam asked, his voice adopting a pleading tone.

Castiel stared at him for a long moment, tilting his head as he tried to figure out Sam’s motives. Sam seemed honest enough, but Cas couldn’t let his barriers down enough to trust him. He didn’t like the implication that he was so vulnerable as to be reliant on Sam for his survival, even if it might be slightly true. He huffed, tearing his gaze away to instead look wistfully at the window.

“Look, I don’t want to hurt you, or rape you or do anything like that to you; I’m just trying to help. I swear on my brother’s life.” Sam said carefully. Castiel risked a glance back at him, his gaze tearing Sam apart in the search for deception. Sam inhaled sharply, running his tongue over his lips before he let his arms hang limply at his sides, opening himself up. Castiel narrowed his eyes, very pointedly directing his gaze towards the restraints before looking back at Sam.

“I can’t trust you at the moment and I know how dangerous uncontrolled clones can be, especially if they’re frightened.” Sam explained, dropping his head in an almost apologetic manner. Castiel furrowed his brows, his expression utterly bewildered at the revelation that Sam supposedly distrusted him as well. He’d never heard anything about humans fearing clones; why would they when they were obviously the oppressors.

“I need to phone my workplace and tell them I’m not coming in today. I’ll be right back.” Sam informed, excusing himself as he disappeared outside the room. Castiel watched him go, feeling his knowledge and understanding of how the world worked crumble into dust. His lips twitched, trying to drag themselves into a frown around the gag before he turned his attention elsewhere, letting himself wonder what had become of Gabriel.

Sam hesitated outside of the room, rubbing his hands over his tired eyes as he tried to get the cogs in his brain turning at full efficiency. That hadn’t exactly gone as well as he would have liked; the clone still seemed able to understand and engage with him, even if he...it was seemingly unable to comprehend the situation it was in. It was a good thing he had restrained the clone, judging by how it had reacted upon waking.

The clone glanced at him briefly as he re-entered the room, before trailing its gaze elsewhere, ending up fixed on the television screen. Sam looked at the screen, huffing at the melodramatic soap which was playing; the clone shot him a bewildered look before rapidly returning its attention to the screen, its eyes wide and glinting with an almost childlike curiosity.

“You’ve never watched tv before?” Sam questioned with a faint smile, plopping down on the bed beside the clone and reaching for the remote. The clone blinked up at him and shook its head, eyeing the space between their bodies cautiously. He blushed and quickly reached for his clothes that had been thrown haphazardly on the floor, managing to wiggle into his jeans and a loose fitting t-shirt.

“Soaps tend to be dismal and poorly acted,” He explained as he switched to the tv guide, the clone eyeing the remote quizzically. “There isn’t really anything good on at this time... Here, you might like this.” He offered, clicking onto a documentary about wildlife in the African planes. The clone’s face lit up for a moment, staring at the screen with a look of wonder as the camera zoomed in on a young lion cub interacting with its mother. Sam’s own features softened, deciding that he rather liked this look on the clone.

However, when he placed the remote back on the nightstand the clone startled, shaking off the almost relaxed look and withdrawing into itself, its expression once more heavily guarded. Sam’s smile faltered and he hurriedly plonked himself down at his desk, aware of a piercing gaze following his every movement.

“I’m just going to be doing work here...”He explained, reaching for his laptop that sat on the ground next to the desk, and rapidly setting it up, unable to shake the sensation of eyes burrowing into his back. He did actually need to do work; it was only a couple of weeks until he had to be in court and he needed to build a strong case.

But instead he found himself researching clones.

He ended up on the Wikipedia page; not for the first time, but it had been a while since he’d scoured through the information. Briefly he’d entertained the idea of working at one of the printing companies, but at that time there had been concerns that the business had no future so he had opted to go to law school instead. That had been during the era of ‘clone uprising films’, which had for a while created a mass hysteria about the possibility of these things to overtake the human race. However, gradually the fear had died down as people began to comprehend that the notion was as ridiculous as robots taking over.

There had initially been a religious conflict as the technology had just begun taking off. The Church had claimed that it was ‘playing God’, with many philosophers claiming that the ability to simply create replacements of people at will would make the sanctity of life redundant. Other scientists were curious as to whether it would allow a unique insight into the complex structures of the brain and how that translated to personality. Some wackier-minded scientists had even contemplated trying to extract the soul using these creatures.

However, the benefits had greatly outweighed the perceived dangers. Even the Church had gradually come around; the Pope had issued an infallible statement that these clones had no souls. The majority of scientists rapidly agreed, revealing the clones to be brainless zombies. They explained that the rapid development of the brain meant that no sentient thought had a chance to exist, rendering the clones mere machines, able to perform simple tasks thoughtlessly when under command.

The addition of the wings came about as a result of the hysteria inducing horror films, the public demanding for some way to easily recognise a clone. It had also had some religious significance; the Church had requested that the clones be made physically different to their human counterparts, claiming that it was not their right to copy the design of the almighty. There had been very few ways to achieve this other than adding a limb that could not be covered up.

The technology behind the wings was fascinating within itself. It was considered a surgical procedure, but technically it was just another form of printing. A few years prior to the printing of clones, they had experimented with 3D printing of simpler organisms. It had started out as a way to find a solution to the shortage of organ donors. Whilst on the surface it had appeared successful, each organ they managed to print had too short of a lifespan to be of any use. Disheartened by this the majority of scientists turned to full body printing, whilst others continued in vain to create organs that were sustainable.

Those scientists had turned to genetic modification to try and solve the issues of the rapidly decaying organs. It was this mixture of techniques that enabled the scientist to essentially begin to create ‘hybrid organisms’. They were banned from creating a fully living organism, but it didn’t stop them experimenting with tissues. When the public cry for a unique aspect to be added to the clones came, they were ready to provide.

It was the head scientist Frank Devereaux that had been the first to not only patent the unique genetic structure of a hybrid wing, loosely based on eagle wings, and combined with the DNA of larger creatures to manipulate the size of the wings; but also to figure out how to join the new wings to the clone in a relatively quick procedure. During the printing process he fused it with the cloned DNA, to reduce the risk of rejection (although that still happened occasionally).

The procedure itself was quite difficult and was not fully explained to the public for fear of amateur scientists trying to replicate the process on unwilling _human_ subjects. Ellen had briefly explained that the wings were secured to the spinal cord and that they were virtually impossible to amputate without paralysing the subject, especially if you did not have the proper equipment.

He looked at the clone briefly, his gaze narrowing in on the injured wing. He needed to keep an eye on that; any infection could prove fatal, especially if he was unable to even attempt to amputate the wing. The clone did not seem to notice his stare, its gaze remaining fixed on the television even as it shifted uneasily, the handcuffs rattling gently.

Sam suppressed a sigh and turned his attention back to the computer screen. He stared at it aimlessly, his finger tapping a steady beat on the desk as he mulled over his options. He had managed to get himself in one hell of a situation. At least it was Friday, so he would be able to get off work for the weekend, except he had Bobby’s barbecue to go to...

There was a high-pitched keening sound that was muffled by the gag, but did not fail to get his attention as he turned back round to face the clone, who immediately dropped its eyes, its cheeks flushing a light shade of pink. It tugged on the restraints, seemingly trying to get Sam’s attention rather than attempting to escape again.

“If I take the gag off and you scream I won’t give you another chance.” He warned, coming to hover over the edge of the bed. The clone mumbled something behind the gag, which at least sounded vaguely like an affirmative. With a heavy sigh he carefully peeled away the gag, his muscles tensing as he prepared to clamp the clone’s mouth shut again.

The clone didn’t yell, just rocked its jaw side to side as it sent a frustrated glare Sam’s way. Sam folded his arms over his chest waiting for the clone to speak, considering how desperate it had seemed earlier to get his attention. It turned to stare longingly at the handcuffs, a slight pout forming on its features at Sam’s hardened expression.

“I need to urinate...” It mumbled, glancing away as its jaw clenched. Sam blinked, uncoiling his arms from where they were wrapped tightly around his chest. He gnawed on his lower lip, trying to decide whether he was prepared to let this thing piss over his bed. “Please.” The clone begged, staring up at him with a slightly anxious expression, tugging half-heartedly on its restraints once more.

“Give me a moment...” He eventually sighed, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. The clone blinked, relief flashing in its eyes but it remained silent. Sam decided it probably wouldn’t be moral of him to force the clone to lie in its own piss, particularly when it was obvious that it was capable of feeling humiliation. Besides, it wouldn’t be good for its injuries.

He disappeared down the hallway, heading straight to his bathroom which thankfully did not have a window that could be opened. Even if it could, he was on the second floor and it was unlikely that a full grown man could fit himself through without plummeting headfirst. He did however take care to remove the razor blades on the sink, glancing around the bathroom to search for anything else that could act as a potential weapon. Thankfully, like most of his rooms, it was bare of everything except for the essentials.

The clone strained against the restraints as he entered the room. He fiddled with the key in his hands, wondering whether it was a good idea to actually let this thing go free. However, it wasn’t like Sam couldn’t take the clone if it came to it; he had a few extra inches to his advantage as well as a fairly muscular body that wasn’t littered with injuries.

“If you try anything than I’ll revoke your bathroom privileges.” He warned, dangling the key directly in the clone’s line of sight. When Sam failed to make a move the clone looked up at him desperately, its eyes pleading him to just get on with it. “You’re not in a position to escape, and even if you were, this is the safest place for you and I swear to God that I mean you no harm.”

“I’m reliant on you for every basic aspect of my life, I gathered.” The clone grumbled bitterly. Sam swallowed heavily, wishing that the statement was further from the truth. But it wasn’t like Sam had a choice here; not if he wanted the clone to survive. He carefully leaned down and unlocked the handcuffs, his fingers brushing over the clone’s wrists as he did so.

The clone lay frozen for a moment as the handcuffs fell free, its expression closely guarded as it rubbed a hand over its aching wrist. Sam shifted his weight, waiting for the clone to start getting to its feet, which it eventually did, but not without sending Sam a distrustful glare first. He very purposely tightened his grip on the keys, which chimed against each other.

The clone paused, swinging its legs over the edge of the bed, a look of concentration descending over its face as it carefully placed both feet on the floor. It winced as it placed weight on its legs, and almost toppled over as it eventually clambered off the bed, Sam just managing to catch it in time. A shudder ran down the clone’s back as it tried to push away, but then its injured leg buckled and the clone fell back into Sam’s waiting arms with a shaky gasp.

“Wait here.” He ordered, settling the clone back down on the bed who gave a meagre whine of protest, but otherwise let itself be manhandled. Sam surveyed it for a moment, trying to access whether this was an act, but judging by the way that its lower leg trembled involuntarily and a sheen of sweat dribbled down its face Sam decided it was unlikely that that was the case.

He hurried to the hallway, unprepared to leave the clone alone for long. He had a pair of crutches stored within the clattered mess of his spare room from when he had broken his leg a few months prior, never having gotten round to returning them to the hospital. It was a good thing that he had kept hold of them, he thought as he returned to the clone with the crutches tucked under his arm.

“Here, try these.” He said, offering the clone the crutches. The clone blinked at them, as though trying to work out what they were for, before it eventually got the message. Slowly, the clone limped onto its good leg, using the crutch to support its weight with its other leg hovering above the floor. The clone then tentatively took a step forward, leaning heavily on the crutches as it did so.

Sam hovered by its side, prepared to intervene should the clone stumble and fall, but so far the clone was managing to adapt well to the crutches, even if it required it to go at a much slower pace. With a gentle hand on the clone’s shoulder he guided it down the hallway towards his bathroom, stepping aside as he opened the door to allow the clone entrance.

“Call if you need anything.” He said, the message ‘I’ll be listening so don’t try anything’ ringing clear to both of them. The clone gave a curt nod and hobbled into the room, struggling to shut the door behind it. He heard the lock slide into place, but he wasn’t overly concerned; it was one of those flimsy locks that would snap open with the slightest bit of force.

It turned out that there was no need to be concerned; within a couple of minutes the door creaked back open, the clone struggling back into the hallway. Its gaze dropped to the floor, muscles tensing uneasily. Sam frowned, contemplating their options.

“I’d rather not be chained to a bed again...” The clone whispered, its gaze still fixed on the floor. Sam nodded slowly, despite knowing that the clone would not see the movement. He’d already known that he couldn’t keep the clone restrained forever; maybe it would be easier to let him remain unrestrained, especially when it was clear that it couldn’t get very far.

“Okay...” Sam agreed, the clone whipping its head up as though startled, its gaze scanning Sam’s face. “I was thinking about making myself breakfast, and I guess you’re hungry too so...” He added, scratching at the back of his neck. The clone blinked, eyes widening for a moment before it glanced away, seemingly conflicted.

“You don’t have to eat if you don’t want to, but I’m going to go downstairs so I want you with me.” He explained, watching the clone’s expression carefully. The clone looked up at him and nodded, before rapidly dropping its gaze once more, a few stray strands of its hair coming to rest over its eyes.

“Here, give me one crutch and use the rail for support.” He suggested, noting the look of anxious bewilderment the clone adopted as it stared down at the flight of stairs, its hands clenching around the handholds of the crutches until its knuckles turned white.

Wordlessly the clone handed him the crutch, leaning its shoulder on the railing and the adjacent wall, as it carefully limped down the stairs. Sam rushed down a few steps so that he was slightly in front of the clone, able to catch him – it (he chastised himself mentally) should it fall. When they reached the bottom of the stairs the clone reached out its hand for Sam to pass him the crutch.

“This way.” He instructed, lingering impatiently as he waited for the clone to catch up. It seemed distracted, its gaze travelling throughout the surprisingly bare living room curiously, making Sam shift uneasily, though he wasn’t quite sure why. The clone’s gaze came to rest on the assortment of pictures he had over the fireplace, the only real sign that someone personally lived in this house.

“Come on.” He ordered, a little sharper than necessary, but the clone was staring too intently at the photo of him and Jess and that was not a memory that he wanted to reawaken. The clone did jump, its eyes darting to Sam with a mixture of irritation and anxiety, before it quickly obeyed.

“What do you want?” He asked, offering the clone the choice as a way to apologise for snapping. The clone blinked at him and tilted its head, its mouth parting slightly but no sound coming out. “Come on, you must have some ideas?” He pressed, smiling just in case the clone felt too intimidated to answer.

“I don’t know anything about food...” The clone admitted in a gravelly voice, sounding more exasperated than it did shy. Sam frowned at it, scrunching his brows together.

“You must have eaten before?” Sam pointed out, taking a seat at the table in the kitchen and gesturing for the clone to do the same.

“In the factory they feed us a substance consisting of all the nutrients and calories we need; I am not sure what you would call it.” The clone explained, wrinkling its nose in phantom disgust.

“You didn’t like it?” Sam asked gently, raising an eyebrow even though the answer was glaringly obvious.

“No-one liked it. It was foul tasting and had an unpleasant texture and it was designed to be degrading...It was similar to what I believe is commonly fed to livestock.” The clone complained, slumping into its seat with a bitter expression. Sam blinked, his smile faltering as he tried to think of some coherent response.

“Sorry...” He said, his voice sounding meek and fragile to his own ears. The clone glared up at him.

“No you’re not.” It hissed, its hands coming to rest on its lap as it straightened. “It’s obvious you don’t value the lives of clones anymore than the rest of humanity. You said that you saved me for some ‘insane reason’, because deep down no matter what you say about not wanting to hurt me, you don’t think I have the same basic right to life as you do. This situation ends one of two ways; you turn me into the authorities or you continue to treat me as your own personal slave for the rest of our lives.” It growled, but he’s voice wavered slightly, failing to look up from where he was staring holes into his lap.

“I don’t want either of those options to play out.” Sam responded after silence had settled heavily over them for a few moments. The clone’s lips twitched into a twisted smile, but when he looked up his eyes were blown wide and filled to the brim with unshed tears. “I’m sorry...It’s just that other clones aren’t like you. I’m guessing something went wrong to make you this way, but clones aren’t meant to be sentient.”

“But they are! They are like me...” He cried, frustration and desperation colouring his words. Sam’s forehead crinkled with lines of confusion as he stared at the clone doubtfully. “Our escape was not meticulously planned; we saw a moment and we took it because we knew that if we didn’t we would be assimilated. I don’t know much about the procedure, but I’ve seen its effects...that process is why clones appear like docile and unthinking slaves. They can think, but they can’t resist orders, so they do whatever the humans tell them. They hate it so much...” His voice broke, his bottom lip trembling as he rubbed furiously at his eyes to try and keep the tears in place.

“We would know if that was the case...Printing companies aren’t exactly an underground operation, they couldn’t keep that from the public.” Sam argued weakly, leaning back on his chair as shock descended on him.

“The guards don’t know; they’re told that clones express signs of sentience on the first few days due to a relay of repressed information from the original subject; like a temporary echo of that person which gradually fades away. The scientists that perform the operation benefit from keeping it secret, and I believe they would be in extreme danger if they were to share the truth with anyone...” The clone explained, his hands clenched into fists as he inhaled shakily.

“You said ‘we escaped’?” He questioned after the silence dragged on for too long, desperate for something to fill it. He regretted the decision when the clone looked up at him, his expression crumbling and Sam could pinpoint the exact moment that the clone’s resolve snapped, a sob being ripped from its throat as tears crawled down his cheeks.

Without thinking about the implications he jumped to his feet and wrapped an arm round the clone’s shoulders and pulled him towards his chest, letting the clone’s head rest just beneath his rib cage, as he rubbed a hand through the clone’s hair in what he hoped was a soothing manner. The clone trembled violently in his makeshift hug, but just burrowed his head deeper into Sam’s chest, ostensibly seeking out any comfort he could find.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry...” He whispered, the mantra repeating itself until the words lost all meaning and just became something for them to both hold onto. He could feel his chest start to dampen as the tears escaped the clone’s face, but he just held him tighter.

Before the sobs had fully subsided the clone pushed him away, wiping at the tear tracks that ran down his cheeks. Sam hovered by his side, waiting for some guidance as to what the clone needed from him, but the clone just continued to stare into space, his body occasionally shuddering with a repressed sob.

“Gabriel led the escape...” He said, clearing his throat as he continued. “It was me, Samandrial and Anna...Samandrial and Anna didn’t even make it out of the complex. Last time I saw Gabriel was in the forest; we split up because we were being chased. I don’t know what happened to him, but I can’t imagine he was able to survive...” The clone explained, his head hanging forwards.

“They had names?” Sam said with a speculative look. The clone nodded but didn’t make any further attempt to communicate. “Does that mean you have a name...?” He asked carefully. The clone stilled for a second, before slowly peeling his gaze up to look at Sam.

“My name is Castiel.” Castiel admitted softly, a vague smile managing to infiltrate his downcast features. “Gabriel and Anna choose the name that some of our guards had; but neither Samandrial nor I wanted to borrow from people we despised. We liked the ‘-iel’ suffix, and we combined other names we had heard of to create our own.” Castiel explained, a strange glint in his eye that was almost bordering on happy, before it rapidly flashed back to sorrow, nostalgia painted into the contours of his face.

“That’s the name of an angel.” Sam pointed out, his thoughts turning to Jimmy and his devout religious nature. Jimmy would definitely recognise that name; he’d probably have his own fondness for it. With a start he realized that he’d barely thought of Jimmy once since he’d brought the clone- Castiel- home... _shit Jimmy still needs an organ transplant and I’m preventing him from getting it._

“I didn’t know that.” Castiel said with a frown, utterly oblivious to Sam’s internal conflict.

“It’s a nice name.” He complimented, not entirely sure why, but he felt a pleasant buzz of warmth settle in his chest at the way Castiel smiled in an almost shy manner, some of the tension draining away from his haggard face.

Castiel explored the boiled egg with his spoon, idly drizzling the yellow goo down the cracked shell. He frowned at the unusual texture, but his stomach twisted eagerly and he tentatively slid the egg passed his lips.

His tongue lapped at it carefully, absorbing the taste with care, his face scrunched up as he analysed the new substance. The taste in itself wasn’t unpleasant and it far exceeded what he had been used to in his few days of life, but there was an almost nauseating quality to it. The smell was too overwhelming and there was the threat of a bitter aftertaste that made him wary of consuming the egg.

He swallowed it anyway under his stomach’s encouragement, his brows furrowed as he still attempted to grasp the exact taste of the egg. It was strange and he wasn’t sure if he liked it or not, but it did seem substantial, which was all that really mattered at this point. Across the table Sam rolled a square of sliced toast between his fingers, before dipping it absentmindedly into the egg and bringing it to his mouth.

He followed suit, gently laying his spoon back down on the table and instead plucking a bit of toast- which Sam had referred to as soldiers for some reason- off of the plate and replicating Sam’s movement. This time the toast crunched, adding a more solid texture to the previously slippery substance, which his tongue lapped up greedily. The taste itself was more diluted, the toast and the egg contrasting against each other to create a new, much more pleasing, taste.

“I like this.” He commented between mouthfuls, managing to awaken Sam’s attention. “The egg on its own was unsatisfying, as too was the toast, but together I find them very enjoyable.” He explained, licking a few crumbs off of his fingers as he shovelled another egg-laden ‘soldier’ into his mouth.

He glanced up from his meal to see Sam staring at him, his features soft as a slight smile graced his face. Castiel ducked his head before they could make eye-contact, feeling something stir uneasily within him as he noticed how much he wanted to relax and wallow in Sam’s presence. He couldn’t take the risk in trusting Sam, no matter how nice he seemed on the surface.

“There are a few foods like that which don’t taste particularly nice on their own, but together taste amazing.” Sam responded after a moment of comfortable silence, leaning forward to push the remnants of the food on his plate towards Cas. “Here, you can have the rest of mine.”

Castiel would have declined the offer were it not for the fact that he was still starving, and this was the first ever meal he had ever managed to enjoy in some way. Instead he grabbed the plate and yanked it unceremoniously towards him, eagerly drizzling the little ‘soldiers’ in the eggy mixture before forcing it into his mouth. His eyes flickered shut briefly as he let the taste consume him.

A large hand settled between his shoulder blades and he startled, leaping forward and almost crashing to the floor before he managed to catch himself on the table. Sam yanked his hand away, but hovered close by, careful not to touch but staying close enough to interfere should something happened.

“Shit, Cas I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?” Sam apologised frantically, his gaze sweeping over Castiel’s trembling form, searching for the cause of his outburst. Castiel rapidly shook his head, taking a few stuttering breaths as he tried to regain the use of his voice. Thankfully Sam stayed back and gave Cas enough time to recover.

“Sorry, you just startled me...” He explained, his eyes glued to the floor. He hadn’t expected Sam to come up behind him, and the fact that he had let his defences down enough for him to have managed to do so without Cas noticing him was worrying him to the extreme.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Sam pressed, gnawing on his lower lip as he took a few steps back. Castiel took a deep breath, his shoulders quivering slightly as he forced himself to his full height, reaching for the crutches as he did so.

“I’m fine.” He assured, limping away from the table and discarding the left over egg and soldiers, his appetite having evaporated away. Sam continued to stare at him, his gaze searching for some remedy which Cas knew he would never find. Eventually Sam sighed, and moved the leftover plates to the kitchen counter to be disposed off later.

“So...Is there anything you want to do?” Sam asked after a moment in a quieter voice, his presence still lingering at the edges of Cas’ peripheral vision. Castiel shook his head; there had been very few things he had done for pleasure in his short life...there had never been the opportunity. The only joy he had found had been within the presence of his kin, and now they were lost to him.

“We could watch some tv...maybe put on a film?” Sam suggested, his voice still underlined with concern. Castiel nodded weakly, content for the moment to just be guided. It wasn’t like he had any other option. “Okay, we’ll put on a film...” Sam concluded, his inflection rising slightly as though he was asking a question.

“That sounds good.” He said, his voice scraping past his vocal chords to create a gravelly and chiselled tone. Sam nodded, although his eyes still glimmered with worry as he led them through his house and into the living room.

This room was different to the rest; there was something personal that clung to the walls which the rest of the house seemed to lack. There was a wide couch, although it looked rather unused save for the few lingering indentations that could have been only days old. He quickly stole a glance at some of the pictures that lined the walls, wondering with a twisting fear whether Sam did live alone.

There were a few pictures where Sam appeared several years younger, and he was swarmed by a group of equally young looking people. The older he got however, the less people who appeared beside him in the photos until it was just a select handful. There were two people who appeared in most of the photos, one of which was a man who looked only a couple of years older than Sam and possessed a very similar quality, although Cas could not pinpoint what. In most of the photos the man was grinning, his arm wrapped tightly around Sam’s shoulder as he invaded the frame, Sam laughing beneath him even as he tried to struggle out of the crushing grip.

The other person who frequently cropped up was a rather pretty and petite female, who constantly smiled into the camera and wrapped herself around Sam’s body, the two of them fitting into one another’s’ contours perfectly. When they were together their eyes sparkled joyously, each lapping up one another’s physical company. In one of the pictures she was adorned in a breath-taking white dress, her skin positively glowing as she leaned towards Sam, who was layered in a well-fitting suit, his mouth pressed desperately against hers as they cupped each others’ waists closer to them.

There weren’t as many pictures of the girl, who Castiel assumed must be Sam’s wife, after that event. The rest were mainly taken up by an older, slightly gruff man who occasionally smiled into the camera, more so with his eyes than his mouth which was somewhat hidden beneath his beard. Probably their father. Another older women appeared regularly, although she was often accompanied by a younger women, who shared her physical characteristics. Obviously mother and daughter, although her exact relationship to Sam was unclear. She might have been his mother.

However, there was one more picture of a younger couple who looked much more like Sam than any of the others. It was another wedding photo; the woman had blonde hair, and her stomach was slightly rounded with the first signs of pregnancy, although it did nothing to detract from her beauty. The man next to her smiled, his eyes fixed lovingly on his newly-wed, but his face was marred with lines that had appeared too soon to be due to age. He seemed happy, but there was something else hidden within the photo that betrayed his unease.

There weren’t any more photos of that couple.

Sam coughed, dragging Castiel’s attention away from the photos. Sam rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, gesturing for Cas to take a seat before he moved towards the cabinet underneath the television. Castiel did as he was told, but not without one final lingering glance at the photographs.

“I’m not really sure what sort of films you would enjoy...” Sam said, riffling through the cabinet and bringing out a stack of DVDs. Castiel glanced at them curiously, leaning forward to pick up a few cases for inspection. Sam dumped the rest of them on the couch next to him and waited on the floor for Cas to make a decision.

“This one sounds interesting...” He suggested after a moment, lifting up the DVD case for ‘The Princess Bride.’ He wasn’t sure whether he would like it or not, but the rest of the films that were sprawled over the couch did not grab his interest. Besides, this one was fantasy, apparently riddled with fairytale that would be more reminiscent of the tales that Gabriel used to weave than the darker, supposedly more realistic films.

“If that’s okay with you...” He added, shifting uneasily as he noticed Sam’s speculative look, one eyebrow quirking upwards. The expression shattered within seconds, and Sam smiled at him, taking the case from his hands and preparing the DVD.

“Of course it’s fine.” Sam said, fiddling with the television until it turned on. He watched anxiously as Sam set up the film, sliding further against the side of the couch and wrapping a couple of pillows around his chest. After a moment Sam turned away and settled on the other side of the couch, apparently not minding Cas’ distance.

The film started slowly, but it was pleasantly light-hearted so Cas was content to let his imagination drift with the story. He did however find himself frowning at how dismissively Buttercup behaved towards Westley, and he tilted his head in confusion as this apparent lack of basic respect suddenly erupted into passionate love for one another. It did seem unrealistically abrupt, but that was probably the price for quick and lightly mannered narration.

He was however saddened by the news that Westley had died on his journey, and he stared at the screen with a renewed interest, wondering what direction the story would take now. He risked a glance at Sam, who still had a smile on his face, though it was considerably more muted now, threatening to disappear altogether.

A hiss of laughter escaped Sam’s mouth, a flash of pink brushing over his cheeks as he ducked his head away from Cas’ prying gaze. The story lingered on in the background, his attention diverted towards Sam, his ostensible saviour. Or his captor; it was difficult to know what their exact relationship to one another was.

Sam seemed pleasant. His entire demeanour was different from that of any other ‘pure’ human he had met, particularly the guards. The scientists did not pay them much heed, the clones were just fancy pieces of equipment to them, but the guards were much more malicious. Some just did their jobs and got on with it, but the majority took great joy in treating them like filth. Like insects that they had every right to trample under foot if they forgot their place.

Sam did appear to be treating him as an equal, although he knew that there was no way he would be allowed to walk out of this house freely. He doubted it was just due to Sam’s concern over his injuries, but he didn’t know what exactly Sam wanted from him. It was unnerving waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Sam’s true motives to shine through, whilst simultaneously knowing that he was essentially reliant on Sam at the moment, completely at his mercy.

“That doesn’t seem like a reason to marry someone...” He commented carefully, pushing himself further against the side of the couch as Sam looked up at him quizzically. “I don’t think the boy is right to say that it’s only fair that she should marry him because he did a lot for her...” He explained, glancing back at the screen.

“I don’t think that’s what it’s meant to be saying...” Sam said after a moment, swinging his legs onto the couch and underneath his lap as he turned to face Cas. “It’s more about the fact that he did so much to try and protect her, and that she loves him too, that it seems only fair they should be allowed to marry like they both want.”

“Are you married?” He asked suddenly, remembering the picture he had seen and now noticing the ring that graced Sam’s finger. He hadn’t seen anyone else yet, and he didn’t know whether he’d be able to cope with having to trust more than one person.

He realized he’d pushed too far when he saw the spark of pain that flashed over Sam’s eyes, his face falling into a mask of tragic shock. He stiffened when Sam moved, his breath hitching in his throat as he anxiously waited to see what Sam was planning to do. Sam got to his feet and manually paused the film before turning around. Castiel huddled further into the couch under the intensity of the gaze.

“Sorry.” He mumbled, his eyes dropping to the floor as he swallowed back the panic clogging his throat, his muscles tensing rhythmically as he tried to prepare himself.

“Why do you always think I’m going to hurt you?” Sam asked, a sense of frustration managing to ebb onto his face, even as his voice was coated with genuine concern as he cautiously sat back down on the couch next to him.

“Sorry...” He repeated, not knowing what else he could say as he squirmed under Sam’s attention.

“I wasn’t asking you to apologise.” Sam pointed out, in a stern, but somehow not a forceful, voice. Castiel bit back another apology and instead glanced up at Sam desperately, his eyes pleading for some instruction. Sam sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose before continuing.

“I was married, for about three weeks almost four years ago.” Sam informed, staring into the distance with an unreadable expression. “Her name was Jess and she was the best thing to have ever happened to me.”

Castiel blinked, his mouth drying as he tried to think of something to say. He wanted to apologise for Sam’s lost, but Sam had told him to stop apologising so he didn’t know what he could possibly say. Almost unconsciously his good wing reached across the couch and trailed over Sam’s shoulder. The younger man startled, and Cas whipped the appendage away his heart thundering in his chest as he scanned Sam’s expression.

“It’s okay, thank you.” Sam said, smiling gently as he stroked a hand through the ruffled feathers. The wing twitched under the attention, his back aching from the strain of holding the limb up. Castiel let the wing flop down against the couch and instead reached a hand out, but stopped before he could make contact, wondering whether the gesture was appropriate. It was something Gabriel and Anna had often done with him, but he didn’t know whether Sam would appreciate the comfort it could provide in the same way.

“I don’t mind, but I don’t want to lean on your wounds in case I hurt you.” Sam said, tilting back in order to make some more space and reaching his own hand out in a compromise. Castiel stared at it, the tips of his wings twitching fretfully, images of being held against someone’s chest without hope of release infiltrating his mind.

Very slowly Castiel mustered the courage to settle into the embrace. He carefully positioned himself so that his wings were tucked up against his back, providing some distance which would allow him to push away from Sam should the embrace become too suffocating. However, Sam let him take charge as he felt around for a more comfortable and secure position, his head coming to rest by Sam’s chest. Sam’s hand lingered questioningly over Cas’ bicep, threatening to curl around his chest.

“Not there.” He said, relaxing when Sam followed his request and obediently moved his hand away. Sam tilted his body, trying to find a more suitable position that wouldn’t cause his arm to fall where Cas didn’t want it to go.

“Is here okay?” Sam asked, his hand burrowing into his hair with his thumb gently scraping over his scalp. He stiffened, trying to assess the sensation it caused before he nodded, letting the hand continue to stroke through his hair. “If you need me to stop just say so.” Sam added as they finally found an acceptable position for both of them to relax into.

The film continued on, but he paid it little heed, just letting the sound and images wash pleasantly over him. He let his defences unravel for a moment in the cosy warmth that enclosed his body, nestling closer to Sam as he let himself relax even further, despite knowing the risk of doing so. There was nothing else he could do at the moment, so he might as well enjoy this small comfort whilst it lasted.

“I don’t understand you.” He mumbled quietly just as the film was reaching its climax. Sam’s body shifted slightly as he glanced down, the hand in Cas’ hair coming to a sudden standstill.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re too nice and I don’t understand why.” Castiel admitted, fiddling slightly with the fabric of the couch. “No one is nice to clones without a reason...” He added, thinking of the line in the film earlier which had sunk into his consciousness: ‘life is pain; anyone who says otherwise is selling something’. He just wished that he knew what Sam was ‘selling’, so to speak.

“You’re scared I’m going to hurt you?” Sam concluded, sitting up straighter so that they were facing one another, but Castiel refused to look up.

“Everyone else has.” He retorted bitterly, briefly glancing down at his bruised and battered body, a surge of anxiety coursing through him as he realised how vulnerable he was, particularly as he was mostly naked. He wasn’t particularly used to being covered. It wasn’t too uncommon that the clones were stripped naked; it was only when it got too cold that they were granted any form of clothing. But the juxtaposition between the layers of clothing that Sam was wearing and his own meagre covering was making him feel ill.

“You’ve only been alive for a few days, a week at the most. How can you already distrust the whole of humanity?” Sam asked, desperation colouring his voice as he tried to understand.

“I understand that I have only existed for a relatively short period of time, but those ‘few days’ have been the entirety of my life and I was at full maturity for all of it. I don’t have the same wealth of experience that you do...I have my genes and the experience of what happened in those ‘few days’ to shape me into who I am, and none of those experiences were particularly pleasant.”

“That’s another thing I don’t really understand; you haven’t experienced enough to have the understanding and intelligence that you do. I mean, no one is born knowing how to speak a language or being able to recognise everyday objects, yet you can?” Sam asked, a frown etched onto his features.

“I don’t understand it fully myself, but the brain is also cloned, and I believe that translates to certain basic information being transferred to me, such as language. I suppose it’s quite similar to what an amnesic feels; I have no concrete memory but I have some mental guidance. I have a basic understanding of general knowledge, and I’m capable of recognising most objects, but I can’t explain an object I’ve never seen before.” He paused, trying to think of the best way to explain it. “For example, when you cooked that egg for me this morning, I knew immediately that it was an egg and I understood what it was and how it came about, and through that process I now have a mental picture of what chickens are. Beforehand, I could not have explained what an egg was, but I did not need someone to explain it to me, I just needed to see it. Every experience builds gaps in my knowledge, it’s rapid and it just happens, but it’s helpful I suppose.”

“It might have something to do with neural pathways being replicated?” Sam suggested with a shrug, a glint of fascination in his eyes.

“I don’t know...” He signed, not liking the topic of conversation which simply served to dehumanise him and render him down to a mere scientific curiosity.

“Sorry.” Sam apologised, noting his discomfort. “I guess I just never really thought what that was like. I just wish there was something I could do to make it better, to give you some way to trust me because I honestly don’t mean you any harm.”

“I don’t think you understand the situation we are in.” He retorted, breaking away from the embrace and glaring up at Sam. Sam frowned at him, his mouth opening before snapping shut as his features became shadowed with doubt.

“I think we can work something out...” Sam suggested, but Cas merely snorted in disagreement. There was no way that their situation could end well.

“The price for my safety is my freedom. Either we get caught, or I become the equivalent of your slave.” He pointed out, clasping his arms over his chest.

“But I’m not forcing you to do things for me!” Sam argued, exasperated.

“Then I’m your pet. Little difference.” Castiel corrected, his eyes glinting challengingly as he met Sam’s gaze.

“Then what is your ideal scenario? You must have had some dream in mind when you were escaping?” Sam asked, leaning forward and invading Cas’ personal space, demanding his attention. Castiel blinked, his eyes flittering up to Sam’s prying gaze before dropping back down to his lap.

“I did not think that far ahead.” He admitted, his shoulders dropping. Escape had seemed so impossible that it hadn’t seemed necessary to think beyond its possibility; it had just been something to strive for. Anything was better than succumbing to the life of a clone, where the only options were slavery or incineration and the choice wasn’t even yours.

“Well, then maybe we can figure something out that will work for you?” Sam pressed, a look of determination flashing across his features. “I mean, maybe if you haven’t been assimilated yet we can use you to prove to the media that there is a cover-up going on? Get the general public on our side?”

“You’re assuming that the public and the media would be in support of something that would prove disadvantageous to them.” Castiel responded, refusing to buy into Sam’s sudden eagerness which refused to deflate.

“If we did it right than they couldn’t ignore it!” He exclaimed, arms gesticulating wildly in his excitement. Castiel frowned.

“If it goes wrong we both suffer...” He explained, his stomach twisting anxiously at the thought of exposing himself to the world. His survival relied on him going unnoticed by the general public, not by announcing himself.

“Then we won’t let it go wrong!” Sam snapped, though it did nothing to detract from his burst of optimism. “Look, I’m a lawyer, so legally I can probably work something out, find all the loopholes that other people would miss. And I can look at other cases where something like this has happened, find out where they went wrong and how we can do it differently.”

“ _Sam._ ” He hissed, trying to yank the younger man out of his stupor of optimism. Sam blinked and looked at him with a frown. “This won’t work. Even if we convinced everyone that this was true, it won’t spur them into action. They’ll just find some other way to justify it to themselves. You can’t change the beliefs of an entire population, not when doing so means that they’ll have to sacrifice something.”

Sam leaned back, folding his arms over his chest and tapping a beat with his finger. He gnawed on his lower lip, creases appearing across his forehead as he frowned. Nevertheless there was a glimmer of hope that refused to fully disperse, and he looked up at Cas beneath dark eyelashes, his eyes begging Cas to share in this dream.

“We’ll figure something out.”

“Sam, please don’t. You know we can’t.” Castiel begged, fear clambering throughout his body. Their eyes met for a moment, before Sam eventually looked away with a sigh.

“Fine. But we can still find a way to keep you safe without stealing your freedom.” Sam concluded, his tone stern and unwilling to listen to any arguments to the contrary.

He opened bleary eyes, groggily trying to assess his surroundings with his face firmly planted into the dribble-stained couch. He wearily lifted his head up, his neck cracking from the strain of the position that he had been lying in. He shivered slightly as the cover which had been wrapped around his sleeping body fell down his chest and huddled around his hips.

Night crept at the edges of the room, only a faint orange glow emitting from the dimmed light overhead. He rubbed at his eyes, trying to figure out how long he had been asleep. He wasn’t aware of having fallen asleep in the first place, his last memory consisting of Sam tending to his injuries. He must have fallen asleep during the procedure.

He could hear Sam’s voice distantly, and he peeked over the back of the couch to try and pinpoint where he was. He strained his ears, trying to comprehend the conversation as he pressed himself further into the couch, fearful of whoever Sam could be speaking too.

However, after a moment Sam paced unknowingly into sight, a cordless phone held tight against his ear. Castiel still couldn’t understand what Sam was saying, but he could feel how strained his tone was, his expression forlorn as he pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes downcast. Sam continued to slowly pace, occasionally disappearing behind the corner with only his voice echoing back.

The phone call only lasted for a couple more minutes, but Sam failed to do anything else but stare into the distance, leaning heavily against the wall. He dropped his head into his hand, trying to rub away the weariness that infiltrated his expression, before turning his heavy gaze on the ceiling, mouth parted ever so slightly.

“Sam?” Castiel called after a moment, feeling like he was trespassing on something private. Sam jumped, eyes widening for a second before they fell on Cas.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” Sam apologised, walking towards the couch and heavily plopping down on it. He sighed, crossing his legs and fiddling uneasily with his hands.

“Are you okay?” Castiel pressed, tilting his head as he scanned Sam, trying to pinpoint the cause of his distress. Sam smiled faintly, but his lip wobbled too much for it to be genuine.

“Yeah.” Sam started, before his expression fell and he hurriedly tried to bite down on his next few words, but failed. “It’s just a friend of mine is quite sick. He needs an organ transplant, but he probably won’t be able to get one because he has a rare type or something, and they don’t think he’s going to last more than five years on dialysis.”

“He doesn’t have the money to get a clone?” Castiel asked, squirming slightly. He didn’t like it, but he knew that was what most people turned to. Sam winced, and stared at Cas for almost a minute before he let his head fall back down onto his hands.

“He did, but um, the clone wasn’t replicated properly apparently, and they won’t let you print a second clone because the error just gets replicated again or something...” Sam explained, rubbing the back of his neck. Castiel frowned, thinking back to those first few minutes of life. There had been a vague conversation about an error in one of the clones, something about the DNA sequence being rejected, but he couldn’t properly formulate the memory to understand the exact details of the faintly overheard conversation.

“The thing is, I know it’s bullshit.” Sam growled suddenly, snapping Castiel’s attention away from his own thoughts. “I guess they can’t say the truth so they’re just having to deal with their usual procedure, but there was no issue with the printing.”

“How do you know?” Castiel asked, shying away from the intensity of Sam’s gaze.

“Listen Cas, the thing is...Look, my mate, Jimmy, is the person you were cloned from. You’re the exact image of him.” Sam explained, the words piercing into Cas’ head like bullets. “But this is good, because we can prove that they were lying and we can make sure Jimmy gets the transplant.” Sam carried on oblivious, his earlier excitement infecting his voice.

“I’m tired; I want to go to bed.” He interrupted, trying to swallow back his fear for a moment to give himself time to think. No wonder Sam had saved him. It wasn’t anything to do with Sam supposedly caring or anything like that. Of course it wasn’t. It was all about Jimmy, and how Cas could be of use to him.

“Oh...Yes, of course. Um, I can give you my bed...” Sam trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Do you mind if I handcuff you again? Just until I know I can trust you whilst I’m sleeping.” Sam asked with a nervous chuckle. Castiel nodded, knowing that his answer didn’t matter anyway.

Sam handed him his crutches as he struggled off of the couch, taking the moment to mentally map out the layout of Sam’s home. Sam’s hand hovered by his shoulder as he limped towards the staircase. His muscles tensed under the lingering touch, refusing to allow Sam to come any nearer.

Ascending the staircase was considerably easier than coming down it had been, but he still found himself leaning heavily against the railing. His body was tired, but his mind was a whirring storm of activity, his eyes flickering uneasily. He could feel a bead of sweat trickling down his back in the ridge between where his wings were fastened to his body.

He flinched viciously as Sam grabbed his arm to steady him as he stumbled into the room. Sam’s grip tightened momentarily, tilting Cas back onto his feet before it was snatched away. Sam watched carefully, pursing his lips as Cas quickly clambered towards the bed, all but collapsing onto it as it came into reach.

“I’ll be in the other room. If you need anything, just shout and I’ll hear you.” Sam informed as he fastened the cuffs around Cas’ wrists, his movements gentler than Cas had anticipated. “It doesn’t have to be an emergency either; if there’s anything you want, just call me, even if it’s just a glass of water or something.” Sam added, his thumb brushing softly over Cas’ wrist as he finished securing the handcuffs.

Castiel didn’t say anything as Sam turned his attention to the cover, which was strewn haphazardly on the floor. He lifted it up, tucking the corners of it into the end of the mattress, before carefully unrolling it and tugging it up towards Cas’ chest. He squirmed, the handcuffs rattling softly as Sam continued to tuck him in.

“Sorry...” Sam mumbled, noticing his discomfort and looking up at Cas through guilt laden eyes, flashing a small smile in an attempt of comfort.

“It’s okay.” He replied hoarsely, even though it was anything but. Sam looked down again, unconvinced.

“We’ll figure something out. I swear.” Sam promised, leaning over Cas and meeting his eyes. Cas stared up at him, doubt clinging to his expression. “Even if we can’t change the whole world, we’ll figure something out for you.”

Castiel felt his mouth go dry, knowing that he ought to say something in response but not having any words come to him. Sam hovered by the bed, a faint frown marring his features as he examined Cas. After a moment Sam shifted, his eyes darting around the room as though looking for something to explain his continued presence, before he reluctantly got to his feet.

“Goodnight Castiel.” Sam said, not waiting for a reply before he swivelled on his feet and hastily exited the room. Castiel swallowed heavily, letting his head crash into the pillow with a soft thump. It wasn’t completely dark in the room; Sam had left the door slightly ajar, allowing a thin beam of light to trespass into the bedroom, but it still wasn’t light enough to make out any real details.

With a sigh he shifted his body as much as the restraints would allow, managing to settle down into a somewhat comfortable position, but his gaze remained trained on the door. From down the hallway he could hear the gentle creak of floorboards as Sam manoeuvred himself towards his own room. A few minutes passed and silence descended upon the house completely, its presence a heavy and crushing weight on Cas’ chest. Reluctantly he let his eyelids groan to a close, surrendering himself to the inevitable darkness.

He was viciously dragged from the unpleasant throes of his nightmare into the waking world with a start, the rattle of the chains exploding into his consciousness as he tried to scramble away from the gentle grip on his arm. The hand disappeared, and the presence that had been looming over him retreated into the distance. He struggled to control his breathing, the memory of where he was trickling through his panic and into the forefront of his mind.

“Sorry Cas, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Sam’s voice pierced the delirious fog of sleep that continued to cling to the insides of his mind. He blinked a few times in rapid succession, before turning his head to find Sam with his hands raised peacefully, standing at the side of the room.

“Sam...” He gasped in acknowledgement, trying to steady his thunderous heartbeat. Sam slowly dropped his hands but didn’t take a step forward.

“Hey. I just came because I need to get some shopping and I didn’t want to leave you handcuffed to the bed just in case something happened.” Sam explained, a question in his voice as he waited for Castiel’s permission to come any closer.

“Okay.” He said quietly, narrowing his eyes speculatively as Sam quickly unlocked the handcuffs. Sam frowned, inspecting his wrists which were tinged with new bruises.

“Why didn’t you tell me they were hurting you?” Sam asked, glancing up at Cas with his wrist still held firmly in his hand like incriminating evidence. He shrugged weakly; it wasn’t the first time he had been restrained, and the handcuffs that Sam was using were considerably more comfortable than the ones at the factory, so he hadn’t given it much thought. Besides, he hadn’t been aware that they were causing injury; he must have been struggling in the night to cause the bruises.

“Tell me in future. I’ll wrap your wrist in a hand towel or something soft before I handcuff them next time.” Sam said, letting go of Cas’ wrist and taking a few steps away from the bed as Castiel slowly scrambled into a sitting position. “Oh, I washed your trousers as well by the way. I’m not sure if you can wear a shirt without the wings getting in the way, so hopefully that isn’t too much of an issue.” Sam added, handing him the white trousers which had been folded underneath his arm.

Castiel quickly shimmied into them, refusing Sam’s non-verbal request offer of help. The fabric was far softer than it had been; it was probably the first time that the trousers had ever been washed. They were freshly dried as well, the warmth seeping pleasantly into his skin as he pulled the trousers up and over his waist.

“Thank you.” He said as he ran a hand along the material, flattening out the stray creases from where it hung a little too loosely on his frame. Sam smiled, a slight puff of mirth escaping his lips.

“Right, well like I said I’m going to the shops, but I should be back in an hour at the very most. I’m just picking up some food, as well as a few supplies for you such as a toothbrush and some spare trousers. I don’t know if there’s anything more you need?” Sam informed, shifting on his feet. Castiel shook his head, before tilting it as he tried to figure out why Sam was taking the risk in trusting him.

“I thought you couldn’t trust me?” He questioned, suspicion clinging to his words. Sam glanced at him, shifting uneasily.

“I can’t keep you handcuffed every time I leave the house.” Sam said with a shrug, chewing on his lips carefully. “But um, I did lock all the doors and windows, so even if you were going to bolt you wouldn’t be able to.” Sam admitted eventually when Cas continued to stare at him distrustfully.

“That makes sense.” He commented dryly. He hadn’t expected such an easy escape to begin with; but this was better than being handcuffed. He could find some way out. He was sure that Sam would have a spare key lying around somewhere.

“Okay then. There’s some spare food in the fridge so help yourself to it, and I’ve already turned the tv on downstairs, so you’re free to fiddle around with that.” Sam said, rapidly changing the subject as he walked to the door, only waiting briefly for Cas to catch up on his crutches. Sam took one of his crutches as they headed down the stairs.

“I’ll be back in a bit.” Sam repeated as they made it to the front door, carefully unlocking it before slipping through, a gust of cool wind bursting through the open door before Sam shut it again. Castiel strained his ears, listening to the sound of the lock as it rolled into place, before he was left alone.

He waited until he heard the whir of a car engine and the squelch of tires over snow before he hobbled over towards the window, carefully lifting the edge of the blind and peeking through. He let the blind fall back shut with a sinking feeling; there were too many people on the street for him to even attempt to make an exit via the front door. It wasn’t a main road, but cars drifted past regularly, and the sound of life echoed through the glass as people walked freely down the street.

He would need to find a way through the backdoor exit; as far as he could tell Sam was situated near to the perimeters of the city, so it shouldn’t be too hard to find a path that was shielded from the humans, even if it meant re-entering the forest. If he was lucky he might find Gabriel had survived the encounter after all. Whatever happened, he would need to get some supplies if he was to have a chance of surviving in the wilderness for more than a few nights.

He ignored the way his conscience prickled uneasily as he clambered back up the stairs and into Sam’s spare room, which he had previously noticed was where Sam stored the majority of his things. It must have been where Sam had slept the night before, judging by the crudely unfolded sleeping bag that was pressed up against the far wall, the laptop resting next to it.

He rolled the sleeping bag back up and continued to rifle through the rest of Sam’s belongings. It didn’t take him long to find a moderately large rucksack, which he began to stuff with spare clothing. Sam was right when he said the shirts wouldn’t be of use in a traditional sense, but any source of heat was needed, even if it just became a makeshift blanket. He was hoping that he might have the fortune to stumble upon a tent, or some other source of shelter, but there didn’t seem to be anything other than the sleeping bag and he didn’t have time to waste.

He stumbled back down to the kitchen, the weight of the rucksack making his movements increasingly difficult, especially as he made his way down the stairs. Once in the kitchen he managed to find an assortment of plastic bags, which he quickly started to stock with whatever food he could find. Most of the food wouldn’t last long, but he managed to find a few cans (and a can-opener) that he would be able to preserve.

He knew that he would need a better solution in the long term, but he needed to get away now that he had the chance; now that he knew about Jimmy, it was obvious that he couldn’t trust Sam. He wished that it was possible for him to give Sam the benefit of the doubt, but he also knew that doing so was risking his life for a person who he had only just met, and had more reason to sell him out than he did to help him.

He also grabbed a few of the larger kitchen knives; they weren’t the best protection, but they were something. And besides, if he managed to get back into contact with Gabriel, than they could probably figure out how to hunt together, in which case the knives would be very useful. He could probably figure out how to hunt on his own if he couldn’t find Gabriel...

The only issue was that he couldn’t walk properly without the crutches, which meant that he had to store the knives in the rucksack as opposed to yielding them like he had previously planned. It would also slow down his movements considerably, but he didn’t have a choice.

Thankfully, from the patio door he could see that Sam’s garden, as well as the neighbouring gardens all had low fences. He wouldn’t need to climb anything; it might be a struggle with the crutches, but he could easily get over them. Furthermore, he could see the outline of trees in the distance, a goal to aim for. There were quite a few gardens that he would need to trespass into though, and the risk of being seen was high...but desperate times and all that. If he moved fast enough, they might not notice the wings on his back.

There was a thunderous volley of knocks on the door, seeming to shake the whole house. He jumped, his eyes wide as he ducked further into the kitchen, out of sight from the front of the house should anyone manage to look in. The loud knocking continued and he took a deep breath, trying to steady his hands as he crept towards the backdoor.

“Sam? Come on Sam, open up!” A deep voice called; it didn’t sound particularly angry, but Castiel wasn’t about to wait around to find out who it was.

He struggled with the handle, finding it holding firm beneath his grip. His heart rate was rocketing, eyes scanning the room to see if he could find a spare key. Surely Sam would have a back up somewhere! He took a few limping steps back, turning his gaze towards the windows, but he could already see that they were too small for him to possibly fit through.

In a fit of desperation he smashed the end of his crutch against the patio door; the door shook, but the crutch rebounded back, barely a crack appearing in the reinforced glass. He tried a few more times, but he couldn’t get the momentum he needed to do any real damage.

He gritted his teeth as the ferocious knocking came to a stop, only to be replaced with the considerably more horrendous sound of a key sliding into the lock. He hadn’t wanted to do any real damage to Sam’s property, but he knew he couldn’t hold back any longer. The front door slammed shut. The footsteps were too heavy to belong to Sam.

He threw the rucksack on the floor, and lunged towards Sam’s microwave, yanking out the wires that connected to the wall and heaving it up, almost stumbling under the weight. He bit down on his lip, his knee threatening to buckle as he was forced to forgo the crutches for a moment as he swung the microwave towards the glass.

The glass exploded, shards raining down everywhere. He stumbled backwards, the ferocity at which the glass smashed taking him by surprise as he ducked his head down, trying to protect his eyes from the tornado of glass. He ended up toppling to the floor, the rucksack managing to break his fall ever so slightly.

“What the fuck!” A voice that was definitely not Sam, and was frightfully enraged erupted throughout the house, followed by footsteps that were rapidly approaching him. He scrambled desperately onto his hands and feet, ignoring the way that the shattered glass pierced his skin, before using the counter to hoist himself up so that he could reach for his crutches and try to make an escape.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going!” Castiel flinched, the shout echoing from the doorway of the kitchen. He turned to face the newcomer, recognising the man from Sam’s photos, although he seemed slightly older here, his features sharper and more defined. Rage was flowing off of him in waves, a stark juxtaposition to the mischievous nature that had been presented in the photos.

“Jimmy...?” The rage deflated for a second, the man straightening out with a furrowed brow, before his gaze flickered to the large wings that were tucked close into Cas’ back. The anger returned, although this time it was tinged with confusion and an increased sense of wariness as they circled one another.

Or rather, whilst the man circled Cas who continued to stumble backwards until he was pressed up against the counter, with nowhere else to go. He leaned heavily into the countertop, trying to relieve some of the weight off of his trembling leg, but he was distracted from the injury by sheer panic as the man continued to come closer.

In a last ditch attempt he pushed himself away from the counter and made a rush towards the shattered door, but he didn’t even make it a couple of steps before he was yanked back, an arm encircling his waist and dragging him towards the table. He struggled desperately, but there was nothing he could do as his upper body was forced down onto the table, his arm- his injured arm- being twisted behind his back to keep him pinned.

He gasped, the fear clogging his throat as his vulnerability dawned on him. The man was saying something, but Castiel couldn’t focus on anything other than the warm breath of the man against the back of his neck which instilled a deep-rooted panic, entangled in a web of horrifying memories that washed to the forefront of his mind and threatened to drown him.

He made a few little choked noises, whilst tears gushed down his cheeks without his consent. He could feel his heart thudding in his chest, trying to make a break for it as the anxiety coursed through him and overwhelmed his body. He could feel himself shaking, trembling pathetically in the man’s unrelenting grip. His whole body was screaming at him, pain reverberating through him alongside his fear and eventually spiking as he felt something tear in his shoulder, the warm liquid seeping up and out, dribbling down his arm and onto the table underneath.

“Dean, stop!” The yell pierced through the panic induced fog, and a moment later the weight which was pinning him down disappeared. He didn’t even attempt to break his fall as he hurtled to the ground, immediately huddling his knees into his chest as he tried to just breathe.

The man- Dean – was still there. Castiel could feel his presence looming at the edge of his peripheral; could feel the malicious intent that was still rolling off of the man in waves. A whimper escaped unchecked and he curled into himself tighter. The voices continued, each harsh syllable cutting through him like a knife.

“Cas?” Sam’s voice was softer now, and he could feel a gentle palm brush over his cheek. He leaned into the touch without even thinking, unable to do anything more when he still couldn’t breathe. He barely even registered it when he felt hands scooping around his back and lifting him up; all he did was cling tighter, desperately needing the contact.

“I’ll be back. Don’t worry, I’ll sort him out.” Sam promised, gently settling him down on the floor. He whimpered when he lost the contact, but Sam was already out of reach. He didn’t recognise this room; it was similar to the makeshift storage room upstairs, but much smaller. It might have been a bedroom at some point, and he briefly wondered why Sam hadn’t bothered to renovate the majority of his house, before turning his attention on the few heavier boxes that he quickly shoved in front of the door, before collapsing against them.

“Dean, calm down.” Sam ordered in a stern voice, standing protectively in front of the room where he had put Cas. Dean glared at him in disbelief, his eyes blazing furiously.

“Calm down?” Dean shouted, taking a few bounding steps towards Sam, until he could feel prickles of spit flying from his brother’s mouth. “Are you serious right now? Are you actually fucking serious!” Dean’s voice dropped into a growl, eyes darting to the door before Sam scrambled back, dropping into a slight crouch in case he needed to wrestle his brother away from Cas.

“Dean, you don’t understand. He’s-“

“He?” Dean snapped, the anger giving way to an exasperated worry. “ It’s not a he Sam, you know that!”

“Just shut up and listen for a second!” He snapped back, forcibly pushing Dean away. His brother’s expression darkened, grinding his teeth together in restraint as he crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow.

“This had better be good Sammy.” Dean warned, his tone still strained, but considerably calmer than it had been. Sam took a deep breath, before rolling his shoulders back and facing his brother.

“That’s a clone, yes you’re right. But _he’s_ not an _it_. His name is Castiel and he’s essentially human; he escaped from the printing factory before this thing called assimilation, which is what they do to clones to make them appear soulless.” Sam tried to explain, but already Dean was shaking his head, his expression akin to a disappointed parent.

“Sam, listen to me. That thing is dangerous. Moreover, Jimmy needs that thing for a kidney transplant, so you can’t just hide it in your house because that isn’t fair.” Dean explained slowly, rubbing the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“Dean I’m not wrong. If you give me a chance I can prove it to you.” Sam pleaded, his heart thundering in his chest as Dean continued to look unconvinced; instead he just looked concerned for Sam. Damnit, if Dean thought he was crazy than what could he do to convince him otherwise?

“Jimmy’s clone was printed with an error, right?” Sam pointed out suddenly, remembering the details of his conversation with Jimmy, and hoping against hope that Dean had been told the same thing. Dean frowned, opening his mouth to agree before looking towards the door with a tilt of his head. Sam leapt at the chance. “Well, then the printing factory lied, because the clone was printed fine, but then he escaped. Why would they lie about that, when it’s a man’s life at risk?”

“Okay, so the printing factory lied. But that doesn’t prove anything. Sometimes animals escape from zoos, doesn’t mean they have any human intelligence.” Dean rebuked with a vague shrugging gesture. Sam sighed in frustration.

“Look, I know it seems strange, but trust me when I say that the printing factories are lying about a lot.” Sam said, taking a step towards Dean as he tried to drill his message into his brother’s mind. “We’ve both seen clones that are completely lifeless, which just follow orders mindlessly and with blank eyes, right?” Dean nodded cautiously. “Well they don’t start like that. Castiel told me - as in he actually sat down with me and had an intelligent conversation – that the clones start like humans, but then they go through a process called assimilation. Cas didn’t know much about it, but from the sounds of things that’s what makes them into mindless slaves, or at least appear that way. It makes them unable to resist orders.”

“Sam, that’s ridiculous. You’re talking about a world-wide cover-up, there’s no way that anyone could get away with that.” Dean dismissed, though he didn’t sound as sure as he had done a few moments ago.

“Why not? It benefits everyone involved to keep it a secret. Anyone who does go blabbing about it gets labelled as mentally ill.”

“Yeah, but you’re talking about thousands of people across the world keeping this a secret. No one would do that. Ellen wouldn’t do that, and she used to work for the printing companies.” Dean argued with a frown.

“Well, not everyone who works for the printing company is in on it. Only the few actually involved in the science behind the printing itself, which takes it down to really just a couple hundred of people across the world. Not to mention they’re probably under pressure from their governments to keep it a secret anyway. The guards are just told that the human intelligence is just a temporary echo of the original.” Sam suggested, trying to fill in the gaps from what Cas had told him. Dean hummed thoughtfully, deep lines of distrust still etched onto his face.

“Sam, this is coming across all conspiracy theorist, and honestly there’s no way I can buy this...” Dean admitted with a sigh. Sam clenched his jaw, trying to think of another way to convince his brother.

“Look, stay with me for a day and see then if you’re convinced I’m telling the truth or not. Just promise me you won’t hurt him.” Sam offered. Dean stared at him for a moment, contemplating the offer.

“Fine, I’ll text Bobby to say I won’t make it to the barbecue; which is why I came here by the way, I wanted to know why you weren’t coming but I guess I know the answer now.” Dean agreed, his shoulders dropping as some of the tension evaporated from his body. “But when this day ends, I’m calling the proper authorities to have that thing dealt with, and I want you to come with me to the hospital, because you’re coming across as slightly delusional at the moment and I’m worried.”

“Deal.” Sam confirmed with a nod, glancing at the door behind him to determine his next course of action.

“Although, regardless of what happens that clone can’t be trusted. It smashed up your kitchen, probably would have done the same to you if you’d been there.” Dean pointed out, a slight bite creeping into the words.

“I don’t know what happened there, but he probably panicked when you arrived.” Sam retorted, adamantly refusing to acknowledge Dean’s point. Although he couldn’t help the uneasy sinking feeling that invaded his body, wondering why Cas had tried to make a break for it if the shattered patio door was anything to go by.

“Cas? Can I come in?” He asked gently, his hand hovering over the doorknob as he waited for an answer that never came. Dean sent him an unimpressed glare, which Sam rapidly ignored. “How badly did you hurt him?” He asked, turning his attention to Dean as he tried to determine whether he could risk giving Cas a few minutes more to calm down.

“Not much, I just pinned _it_ down.” Dean replied with a shrug, as though he was talking about an ornament he’d accidentally scratched. “Oh...but it was bleeding I think.” Dean added sheepishly with a glance at his blood-specked hands. Sam scowled at him. “What? I didn’t mean to do it.”

“He was already injured you idiot. You probably tore one of his wounds.” Sam growled, running a hand down his face as he turned back to the door. “Hey Cas, I’m coming in now. I need to make sure you’re alright.” He informed, ordering Dean to stay here as he turned the doorknob, only to be met with solid resistance.

“Cas, open the door. You’re bleeding, I need to treat the wound.” Sam requested, frowning when he was once more met with silence. “Okay Cas, I need to come in anyway. Just move away from the door.” He warned, taking a few steps back and giving Cas time to move, before he rushed at the door and threw his full weight against it.

The boxes that had been acting as a barrier tumbled backwards as the door swung open, knocking them down. There was a muffled sound of distressed as Castiel scrambled away, trembling violently as he pressed himself to the far wall. Sam could see the blood that was dribbling down his arm, as well as the various cuts that coated his exposed skin from where he must have fallen against the shattered glass.

“Cas, calm down, it’s only me.” He whispered, kneeling down in front of the huddled form and gentle prizing Cas’ hands away from his face. Castiel blinked up at him, his pupils dilated with fear as he tried to shy away from Sam’s touch. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” He asked, leaning back slightly to give Cas some more space.

“Don’t hurt me. Don’t...don’t...” Castiel whimpered, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. Sam made some soothing sounds, not sure how he could talk Cas out of this.

A shadow drifted over him, and he glanced around to see Dean standing warily behind him, his jaw slack as he stared at Cas with wide-blown eyes. Castiel noticed his presence as well, a stuttered sob ripping itself free from his throat as he scooted further back, but the wall remained unrelenting behind him and provided him with nowhere to go.

“Cas, no one is going to hurt you. We just want to help, you know that.” Sam promised, clasping Cas’ trembling wrist in his hand and rubbing soothing circles over the course skin. Castiel all-but whined as Dean took a step closer, proceeding to instead huddle closer to Sam for protection, as some part of his anxiety driven brain recognised that Sam wasn’t a threat.

“Dean, go get the first aid box.” Sam ordered, pulling Cas closer to him as the clone cried into his chest, occasionally a choked sound escaping his throat which he couldn’t hold back. Dean hesitated for only a few seconds, before he scrambled away. Castiel relaxed against him, glancing over Sam’s shoulder at Dean’s rapidly retreating form.

“Sam, I’m sorry.” Cas sobbed, the sound muffled as he nuzzled further into Sam.

“Don’t worry about it; we’ll talk about it later.” He said, trailing a hand through Cas’ hair. Castiel whimpered again, before falling completely silent, his body continuing to shake treacherously. Sam just held him tighter.

It took a few more minutes for the shaking to eventually subside, but Castiel still clung onto him, his tightening grip on Sam’s shirt threatening to tear holes through it. He still needed to get a good look at Cas’ injuries, though he wasn’t sure whether Cas was ready for another encounter with Dean, but despite his reluctance to bring the two back together, he really needed to get Dean to experience Cas’ humanness up-close if he had any chance of getting Dean to believe him.

“Cas, I need to take a look at your injuries.” He pointed out, feeling Cas stiffen uneasily against him. “Dean’s my brother; he didn’t mean to hurt you he just panicked. He won’t hurt you again, I promise.”He explained, hoping that Dean would actually keep to their deal and avoid hurting, or even threatening, Castiel.

“Okay.” Castiel agreed in a shaky voice, struggling onto his feet but leaning heavily on Sam for support. He really should have grabbed Cas’ crutches, but he didn’t think it would be sensible to leave Castiel alone just as he was beginning to calm down.

Thankfully it wasn’t more than a couple of metres to the living room, though he all-but carried Castiel along. The clone was managing okay, but his leg was shaking under the strain as he dragged his foot along the ground, a grimace of pain trespassing onto his face. When they got to the couch he gently set Cas down, feeling all of the energy evaporate from Cas’ body as his feet left the ground.

Dean cleared his throat, passing the first aid kit into Sam’s waiting hands. Castiel shifted uneasily, sending a suspicious glance Dean’s way before burrowing further into the seat. The adjacent couch creaked as Dean leaned back into it, narrowing his eyes at the clone.

Sam ignored them both, instead focusing on cleaning Castiel’s shoulder injury. The flow of blood was coming to a stop, and the wound itself was much cleaner than it had been. There was no trace of any remaining pus and it didn’t seem infected. Still, he decided not to stitch up the injury just yet, and instead applied some fresh gauze to it. Castiel suppressed a wince as pressure was applied, but otherwise remained still.

The rest of the cuts were shallow; he removed the shards of glass with the tweezers, the majority of which were lodged in Cas’ hands, before applying a generous amount of antiseptic salve. They probably wouldn’t need much more attention; the likelihood of infection seemed quite low.

“So, Castiel...My brother tells me that you’re the innocent victim in a web of secrecy and cover-ups...?” Dean commented the second that Sam discarded the first aid box, his voice dripping in sarcasm as he turned his gaze towards Sam instead of Castiel. Castiel stared up at Sam pleadingly, looking between the two brothers as he tried to figure out what he was meant to do.

“Um...I...yes, I guess that’s right.” Castiel stuttered with wide eyes fixed on Dean. Sam smiled, raising his eyebrows pointedly as Castiel managed to meet his challenge.

“So, all clones are actually sentient?” Dean said with a grunt of disbelief, scowling at Sam’s expression. Castiel swallowed audibly.

“Yes. Before assimilation we’re as capable of independent thought as you are.” Castiel explained, his voice gradually becoming steadier.

“What’s assimilation?” Dean pressed, frown lines carving themselves into his face. Castiel glanced at Sam for direction, but Sam kept his gaze on Dean, knowing that if he gave any support to Cas now, Dean would use it as an explanation for the intelligence that Cas was demonstrating.

“I don’t know how it works...I’ve seen the effects though. All I know is that it’s a painful and unpleasant process, and it makes you unable to ignore direct orders.” Castiel answered, flinching back when Dean jumped to his feet, his face completely slack in disbelief.

“Okay, so you can have a coherent conversation. Doesn’t prove you can be trusted.” Dean accused, leaning over Cas’ prone form, before Sam jumped to his feet and dragged his brother back a few steps.

“Dean, enough.” Sam growled, frustration rolling off him in waves. What further proof did his brother need to know that Cas was sentient? He was just beating around the bush now, refusing to accept what he didn’t want to believe.

“No, he’s still not safe. I mean, he destroyed your kitchen, why would he do that?” Dean questioned, his gaze boring into Cas who was struggling into a sitting position, staring at Dean’s outburst with wide eyes.

“I didn’t mean to...” Castiel said quietly, turning his sights on Sam, his tone apologetic. Sam paused in glaring at Dean, instead turning to raise an eyebrow at Cas, still confused about what exactly had happened. Castiel squirmed under his gaze.

“Sam, look he can’t be trusted.”

“Give him a chance.” Sam defended, seeing how uneasy Cas was getting, his muscles tensing as he ducked his head.

“I’m sorry.” Cas said, not looking up at either of them. Sam stared at him for a moment, waiting for him to expand, but he just remained silent.

“What happened?” Sam prompted, glaring at Dean when he started to open his mouth, no doubt to sprout more accusations which would just continue to scare Cas into closing up on them.

“I panicked after learning about Jimmy...” Cas admitted, the words managing to silence both Dean and Sam, who shared a look with one another.

“He knows about Jimmy?” Dean asked, a slight accusation in his voice. Sam nodded, though he still stared at Cas with mild confusion.

“I don’t understand...what about Jimmy made you panic?”

“I’ve been trying to find a motive for why you helped me.” Cas explained, risking a glance up at Sam. Sam took a deep breath, rolling his shoulders back as he struggled not to interrupt with more assurances that he wasn’t planning to hurt Cas. “The fact that I’m a clone of your friend just made it seem like you wanted to sell me out for Jimmy’s sake, and I couldn’t...I can’t allow that to happen. Please don’t do that.” Cas begged, this time lifting his head to meet Sam’s gaze head on.

“I don’t know what you mean...do what?”

“Don’t use me to get an organ for your friend. I don’t want my body to be harvested for someone else without my consent.” Cas explained, his voice wobbling slightly as he did so. Dean snorted next to him, and took another step forward.

“So what? You’re worth more than Jimmy now?” Dean growled, turning his accusing gaze on Sam as well. Sam looked away, chewing on his lip uneasily.

“It’s my body, not his!” Castiel hissed, his voice lashing through the room with a sudden surge of power. Dean blinked, shock flashing over his features momentarily before the rage tried to resurface.

“You’re his clone, which means you have to.” Dean growled back, his voice like a whip, but this time Cas refused to back down.

“Just because we share the same DNA doesn’t mean I owe him anything.” Castiel argued, his eyes blazing. “He has no right to my body.”

“Cas, it is just a kidney, it isn’t like it would cause any serious harm to you if you were to donate it.” Sam pointed out reluctantly. Castiel turned to look at him, his jaw clenching as his eyes flashed with betrayal.

“You don’t understand. This is my body, and I refuse to do that. I’m not going to live for the sake of someone else, and you don’t get to decide that. If you truly considered me a sentient being you would understand that I have every right to avoid donating any of my organs.” Castiel growled, a touch of desperation seeping into his voice, his gaze seeming to bore into Sam’s very soul.

“I wasn’t going to force you anyway.” Sam said after a moment, not knowing how true it was. Castiel stared at him, seemingly unconvinced before he peeled his gaze away.

“To answer your question, I was trying to escape. I didn’t intend to damage any of Sam’s property, it’s just that I couldn’t unlock the door and then you came in, so I was forced to break it open. I did not expect it to shatter so dramatically.” Castiel explained, turning his attention towards Dean, who straightened out under the suddenly piercing gaze.

“I still don’t understand why you can’t donate a kidney.” Dean growled, the words causing Castiel’s muscles to tense.

“Dean, even if he was willing, it’s not possible at the moment. If we even tried it’d just alert the authorities, and they’d probably interfere before Jimmy even got the kidney. It’d just end up with Cas getting incinerated and me getting arrested.” Sam pointed out, trying to calm the raging argument that he could feel about to brew. Castiel glanced up at him with a frown, but didn’t do anything to voice the reason for his displeasure with Sam’s means of defence.

“Fine, okay.” Dean said, his shoulders sagging as he came to the end of his rant. “Still, you can’t ignore the legal issues surrounding this. Technically I should be arresting you right now, which means I can get into trouble for failing to do my duty as well.” Dean added in a much calmer voice, retreating back to the other couch and perching on the edge.

“Well, what do you suggest?” Sam asked, turning to face his brother. Dean looked up at him, furrowing his brows as his eyes clouded with thought.

“I don’t know. Just don’t get caught?” Dean responded with a shrug, triggering a frustrated groan from Sam as he too settled down onto the couch next to Cas. “Hey, I enforce the law I don’t break it.”

“Well, there must be some way around it? A legal loophole?” Sam pressed, running a hand through his hair. Dean stared at him pointedly.

“You’re the lawyer here, if there are any loopholes you should know.” Dean pointed out, glancing towards Castiel. “What about you feathers, you got any bright ideas?” Dean asked, his tone spiking in the hint of mockery, but there was something serious underpinning it.

“I don’t know anything about your laws.” Castiel rebuked, tilting his head at Dean as though this should have been obvious. The corners of Dean’s lips twitched into a smile before he turned his attention back to Sam.

“Look, this is well beyond us.” Dean stated simply, his features hardening for a moment. “I’ll admit, you were probably right about the clone, though I still don’t fully trust him. But I don’t understand what you’re expecting to achieve out of this?”

“I don’t know...we just need to find a way to keep Cas safe, right?” Sam suggested, dropping his head slightly. “I don’t know how to do that though, other than just keeping him on lockdown here and never letting anyone round...”

“Why can’t you do that?” Dean asked, pursing his lips slightly. Sam stared at him, seriously questioning whether that was the solution Dean was suggesting.

“Because that’s an awful idea. It’s too limiting for one thing, too open to risk for another.” Sam pointed out, darting his eyes towards Cas who was seemingly lost in thought.

“I have an idea.” Dean said, leaning forward slightly. “I think it’ll work...I’ll make sure it can’t be traced back to you, but I’ll see what I can do.” Dean continued, jumping to his feet, determination flashing over his expression.

“Dean! Where are you going?” Sam questioned, trailing after his brother. Castiel hesitated on the couch, his injured leg not giving him the chance to pursue them.

“I’m going to the Roadhouse.” Dean replied, which didn’t do much to explain what exactly Dean’s plan was.

“What, why?”

“Ellen used to work at the printing companies; she’ll know some stuff and she won’t rat on us either.” Dean explained, although Sam got the sense that he was only getting the shortened version of Dean’s plan, but judging by the fiery look in Dean’s eyes, there was no way that Sam would be talking him out of anything.

“Dean, don’t do anything stupid. I’d rather you not get involved at all then put yourself in danger.” Sam pleaded, grabbing his brother on the arm before he could head out of the door. Dean turned back to him with a grin.

“Come on, you know me Sammy, I’m always careful.” He said with a wink, patting Sam on the shoulder before sliding out of the door. Sam rolled his eyes, before remembering something.

“Dean, if you’re looking for Ellen, she’ll probably be at the barbecue.” He pointed out, watching with mild amusement as Dean paused, frowning slightly before he tried to shrug it off with a mumbled affirmative as he continued his trek towards the impala.

“Are you sure that Dean is going to help us?” Castiel asked again, glancing around uneasily as he leaned heavily on his crutches, watching as Sam tidied the kitchen.

“I know when he’s lying Cas.” Sam said, kneeling down as he scooped the shattered glass into the dustpan. Castiel frowned, not having the same confidence in Dean as Sam did. He wasn’t sure what to feel about Sam’s brother, but he didn’t think that he could be fully trusted.

“Cas, if he wanted to rat us out he wouldn’t do it behind my back, he would do it head on. That’s just the way he does things.” Sam explained, turning towards him with a sigh. Castiel swallowed, and nodded slowly.

“I’m sorry about the damage to your kitchen.” He added quietly, his shoulders drooping as he surveyed the chaotic mess. Already the room was chilled, the cool winter air flowing through the uncovered patio door. He wanted to help Sam tidy it up, but he wasn’t much use when he was stuck in crutches, which Sam had pointed out each time he had offered.

“It’s fine.” Sam dismissed with a shrug, turning to gaze at the shattered patio door. “You should go back into the living room where it’s slightly warmer, I’ll finish up here.” Sam suggested with a frown, looking back over at Cas. He contemplated staying where he was, but he had already learnt how persistent Sam could be with such matters. He nodded, quickly hobbling out of the room.

He wasn’t too sure what he was meant to be doing in the living room; he just settled down on the couch and stared curiously at the television, wondering if he should fiddle around with it until it switched on, but deciding against it when he didn’t have Sam’s permission. He sighed, dropping his head into his hands.

“I’m not sure what more I can do at the moment. I’ll need to find some way to cover the open door.” Sam informed, entering the living room a few minutes later. Castiel quickly straightened on the couch and sent Sam another apologetic look. “Stop that, it’s not your fault.” Sam assured immediately, resting his hands on his hips as he did so.

Castiel pursed his lips, unable to feel reassured by Sam’s words, kind though they may be. He still didn’t understand Sam; he was still waiting for a surge of anger to show itself. Waiting for Sam to finally lash out and hurt him...but still, even after his failed escape attempt, there was nothing that Sam did to reprimand him. He was certain that any other human would have punished him severely for causing such damage.

“I’m just going to bring in the shopping from the car.” Sam said, smiling softly at Cas before hurrying off. He craned his head, peering over the couch as he watched Sam’s retreating steps, a slight spring in his stride. Castiel blinked, his lips twitching in the start of a smile at the sign of Sam’s happiness, although he had no idea why that would be.

Sam returned quickly, straining with the multitude of bags in his grip as he struggled through the door. He placed the bags carefully down on the floor in front of Cas, before kneeling down in front of them and rifling through, his grin stretching across his face until dimples appeared.

“I didn’t really know what you’d like...” Sam started with a faint blush, pulling out a few items from the bag. He placed the toothbrush and deodorant onto the table, before passing a package of socks up to Cas which he took tentatively, staring at the material with wonder, before he was distracted by a pile of clothes landing in his lap. He ran his hand over the material; there was a range of different fabrics, some softer than others, but all feeling pleasant to the touch. The majority were jeans, trousers and tracksuits, but amongst them were a couple of large jumpers. He glanced up at Sam, brow crooked slightly in confusion.

“I thought maybe I could find some way to alter it; maybe add in holes at the back which we could slide your wings through? I’m not sure if it’ll work but I’ll give it a go.” Sam explained, ducking his head slightly as he did so, before turning his attention back towards the bags. “I got you a book, but then I realised that you might not be able to read...so I got a few films instead, and...I came across this painting they were selling; it’s not that big but I thought it was nice, and you don’t have many possessions now, so I thought why not.” Sam said, carefully lifting up the items and placing them beside Cas, who stared at the assortment of items in amazement.

The book was new; he flicked through the pages, cautious not to break the spine as he stared at the words, smiling slightly when he felt his cloned brain respond to the printed words with understanding. The book was called ‘Good Omens’, and it certainly looked interesting, although he didn’t have any reference to judge it by. He peeled his gaze away, still keeping a firm hold on the book as he turned his attention to the films.

“They’re just a few classics that I don’t own anymore...” Sam said, pointing to one of the cases as he did so. “I used to watch this one all the time when I was younger.” He continued, eyes flashing with joy. Castiel stroked a hand along the cover; the film was titled ‘DragonHeart’, the setting seemed similar to ‘The Princess Bride’ in the sense that it was set within a fantasy world mirroring medieval times. The other films were all titled ‘Back to the Future’; ostensibly they were all part of the same trilogy.

The picture itself was beautiful; it was painted on a simple canvas, the material rough beneath his fingers as he gently traced the mesmerising lines. It wasn’t large, but there was an impeccable sense of detail, an obvious sense of care emanating from the image. It depicted a bird; a raven perched precariously on a stone ledge, the world behind it cast in shadows, the rain pelting down on it furiously as the wind ruffled its feathers.

“It’s beautiful...” He whispered, looking up at Sam with wide eyes, whose smile widened until it encompassed the entirety of his face, his eyes sparkling with joy. “Thank you.” He said, swallowing heavily, his eyes watering from the intensity of the emotion that engulfed his body.

Sam blinked, his smile fading though his eyes still glimmered with happiness, but an undercurrent of concern trespassed onto his expression. He got to his feet and approached Cas, crouching down in front of him and wrapping his arms around Cas and resting his head over his shoulder.

“You’re welcome.” Sam whispered, patting him gently on the back before he carefully extracted himself from the embrace; Cas felt the absence of his body with a shocking coldness, confused by his own desire to keep Sam close.

“I got some more food too; snacky stuff like crisps and chocolate. I figured we could have a movie night.” Sam added, his smile beaming back onto his face as he removed a few packages of food, before grabbing the rest of the bags and disappearing into the kitchen, a whoosh of cold air invading the living room as the door was opened.

Sam’s voice continued on, the sounds muffled by the walls but still drifting pleasantly towards him. Castiel's lips twitched, wanting to embrace the simple pleasure he had found, but an uneasy feeling nibbled at him; an anxiety that he couldn’t quite push away. He looked back down at the picture that Sam had bought for him, still mesmerised by the thought of actually owning something that he could call his own. Still awed by the kindness Sam had showed him; even after Cas had caused him so much bother.

He jumped as a loud knocking broke into his thoughts. Sam’s voice stopped dead as the sound reverberated through the house. Sam hurried back into the living room with a wary frown, motioning for Cas to hide in the kitchen. He glanced at the door fearfully, but wasted no time in getting onto his feet and rapidly limping into the kitchen, using the crutches to increase his strides.

“Coming!” Sam called, chewing on his lips as he waited for Cas to disappear behind the kitchen door. Castiel shivered, pressing himself up against the wall so he could hear what was happening as Sam’s footsteps retreated as he approached the door.

“Oh...Hello officer.” Sam greeted, his voice starting out as a stuttered gasp before he impressively managed to regain himself, his tone smoothing out into comfortable syllables. There was a murmur of voices and Cas strained his ears, desperately trying to make out the rest of the conversation.

“Really? Shit, I didn’t know that happened.” Sam’s said, his voice managing to betray nothing. The other voices were considerably sterner, the tone snappish and dipped in a threatening growl. “That’s absolutely ridiculous.” Sam argued back, his voice rising in volume, sounding incredulous rather than full out angry. The conversation paused, silence descending for one painstaking moment before it continued again, this time brief and curt. Not shouting, but still retaining that menacing undertone.

“Do you have a search warrant?” Sam questioned, his tone dropping in pitch as he forced some frustration to cling to the words. There was another distinct pause in the conversation. “If you don’t have a search warrant, then I won’t let you in.” Sam continued, his voice stern and unforgiving. There was another pause; this one heavier somehow, the intensity seeping throughout the house before the visitors eventually spoke again. “Fine, but I’m not letting you in until you do. But I wish you luck with your search anyway officers. Good-day.” Sam growled, the slam of the door echoing through the house.

Castiel waited a few seconds before he limped back into the kitchen, watching with a thundering heart as Sam ran a hand down his face, his brows furrowed in intense worry. He shifted, waiting for Sam to explain what had just happened. It took a moment for Sam to even acknowledge his presence, pinching the bridge of his nose before he worked up the strength to even lift his head.

“That was the police.” Sam informed, leaning against the wall, breathing audibly. Castiel tilted his head, his muscles tensing but still maintaining a confused disposition. “They’re searching for a run-away clone. I don’t know how they know, but they wanted to search here. I managed to keep them away, but I’m pretty sure they’ll be back.” Sam explained, running a hand through his hair, lips carved into a deep frown.

“What do we do?” Castiel asked, stiffening under the weight of his crushing anxiety. Sam stared at him, before taking a deep breath and walking towards him.

“I’ll call Dean; he’ll know what to do. He might already have a solution if we’re lucky.” Sam suggested, attempting to smile reassuringly but his face was still worryingly downcast. Castiel glanced at the front door cautiously, shifting his weight slightly, his arms aching with the strain of keeping his injured leg off the floor. Sam’s hand burrowed into his pocket in order to retrieve his mobile phone.

“Hey Dean,” He greeted after a moment, fiddling with the phone until Dean’s voice drifted out of the phone and on loudspeaker.

“Sam? What’s wrong?” Dean asked immediately, already sensing the weight beneath Sam’s words. Sam glanced at Cas before answering.

“The police just came round. They’re in the process of obtaining a search warrant.” Sam explained, dropping any pretences as he cut to the chase. Dean didn’t reply for a moment, but there was a rustle of fabric and a mumbled roar of background voices on the other end.

“Sam it’s me.” A female voice answered instead, and Cas looked at Sam for direction as to whether this was a good thing. Sam flashed a smile, though he still seemed concerned.

“Hi Ellen...” Sam said, a question sneaking into his tone. There was an unimpressed snort on the other end of the line.

“You boys, I swear to god. Trouble always manages to find you.” Ellen grumbled back, her voice slicing through the phone like a knife. Sam squirmed slightly, a blush creeping over his cheeks. “Well, ain’t you got something to say for yourself or do I have to come round there and wrack it out of you like I did with your good for nothing brother?” Ellen pressed, her words overlapping a muffled noise of complaint from Dean.

“Wait...does this mean you’re going to help us?” Sam questioned, his voice raising an octave. There was a pause on the other end of the line, followed by a heavy sigh.

“Well I can’t very well leave you dangling by yourself.” Ellen grunted, though something warm managed to creep into her tone this time. Sam’s face exploded with relief, a grin stretching onto his face despite the seriousness of the situation.

“Thank you Ellen, it means a lot.” Sam said earnestly, grasping the phone slightly tighter as he did so.

“Don’t thank me just yet, you still haven’t explained what’s going on.” Ellen pointed out, seemingly amused by Sam, although her tone remained stern.

“Oh, right.” Sam rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, I have a clone here, and now the police are trying to find him so...”

“So you’re in deep shit, got it.” Ellen concluded, the frown audible in her words. Sam gritted his teeth, clearly struggling to suppress an eye-roll. Castiel smiled slightly, deciding that he liked this woman. There was another burst of voices on the other end, though most of it was drenched with static from the phone. “Okay, here’s what’s going to happen. I’m sending Rufus down to your place, he’s getting you and the clone back to the Roadhouse and I’ll meet you there.”

“Rufus?” Sam asked, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. There was another rustle of noise and a murmur of protest.

“That’s right kiddo, the one and only.” A male voice- presumably Rufus’- interrupted, his voice sprinkled with amusement but slightly muffled beneath the sounds of him chewing on something. “I’ll be at your place in the van in five, so get ready and then I’ll explain.” Rufus informed, before letting the phone fall dead.

“Who’s Rufus?” Castiel asked, noticing the slightly startled look that was clinging to Sam’s face. He blinked, frowning ever so slightly in thought.

“He’s a family friend...I didn’t think he’d help us, but then I guess he’s always been a bit eccentric.” Sam explained with a vague shrug, before straightening out, his face slipping into a sombre mask. “Take the rucksack, it’ll be easier than packing now.” Sam decided, sending a sidelong glance at the offending bag which was nestled at the side of the living room.

Castiel didn’t bother to sit down, his gaze remaining fixed on the door in anticipation. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but he still felt troubled by the inclusion of more strangers in the situation, although he supposed that it was at least a little bit comforting that Sam trusted them. Still, according to what he had overheard Dean say, Ellen had worked with the printing company previously, so where exactly did her loyalties lie?

“How do you know Ellen?” He asked after a moment. She had seemed nice; a little crude and abrupt, but there had been a kindness underpinning it. Something comforting beneath the words, although Cas wouldn’t want to go up against her at any point. Judging from the way Sam had reacted to her, they were close; they were familiar with each other, and there was an aspect of respect that had brightened Sam’s tone, born out of adoration rather than fear.

“She’s also a family friend. Though I guess she’s more family now.” Sam said, furrowing his brows in thought. “I mean, I’ve known her since forever. She used to help look after me and Dean, when my dad was away on one of his ‘trips’, so I guess I’ve always regarded her as a parental figure in a sense.” Sam added, his features hardening for a moment, his eyes clouding over with nostalgia.

There was a loud knock on the door, and Castiel backed up a few steps so that he was out of sight, just in case it wasn’t Rufus. Sam smiled at him, running his hand along Cas’ arm as he walked to the front door, cautiously looking through the peep hole before he nodded back at Cas and opened it by a fraction of an inch.

“So where’s this clone?” Rufus asked, swinging open the door and storming right past Sam who hurriedly closed it again. Castiel glanced at the dark-skinned man warily, feeling all eyes turn towards him. “Ah, there we go.” Rufus grinned, and took a few large steps until he was standing right in front of him, leaning right into his personal space.

“So, according to Dean you have a name...” Rufus said with a quirk of his eyebrow, before grabbing Cas’ head and tilting it lower, using his hand to part his hair as he searched through it. Castiel tensed beneath the exploring grip, before squirming out of Rufus’ hold and taking a few steps back.

“Yes...my name’s Castiel.” He replied shakily, noticing the way that Rufus’ eyes lit up with something akin to excitement, only for him to take another step forward and grip Cas’ face between his hands. He tried to back away but the grip remained firm this time, and he froze as fingers prized his eyes fully open, peeling back his eyelids to reveal the red skin beneath.

“Rufus stop.” Sam ordered, staring at the man with bewilderment. Rufus glanced up at him dismissively, but did eventually drop his hands away from Cas’ face, only to then slap him eagerly on the back.

“Looks like you’ve got yourself an unprocessed clone. Been waiting for one of you guys to get to the outside world.” Rufus explained, his gaze exploring Cas’ figure. He took a few more steps back, glaring at Sam to do something to help. Sam shrugged, his own expression utterly confused.

“Unprocessed?” Sam questioned, taking a step between Rufus and Cas, which Cas was immensely grateful for.

“It’s what we call clones that haven’t been assimilated.” Rufus informed, side-stepping Sam to get closer to Cas, but he scrambled away before he could get too close. Rufus blinked, finally seeming to recognise the anxiety he was causing. He paused, raising his hands in surrender. “C’mon I’m on your side.”

“I only have your word for that...” Cas pointed out, sounding more confident that he felt. Rufus snorted, nodding ever so slightly as he did so.

“He’s got a point. Ah, it’s nice to have a smart clone, really does help the cause.” Rufus said with a grin, nudging Sam in the stomach as he did so.

“The cause?” Sam asked, poorly concealed exasperation seeping into his voice. Rufus gave an aborted laugh, raising an eyebrow at Sam.

“What, we’re talking about buddying up with a clone and you can’t figure out what the cause is?” Rufus mocked. Sam didn’t bother to hide his obvious eye-roll this time.

“You say cause as though this is something that people are promoting...?” Castiel interrupted, staring at Rufus and tilting his head.

“Well, I wouldn’t say promoting. It’s more, a mild form of terrorism that we try to hide from the authorities.” Rufus said with a shrug. “Anyway, we’re meant to be making a getaway, so you two need to get in the van.”

“Isn’t there a good chance someone will see us if we go out the front?” Sam pointed out, reaching over to retrieve the rucksack nonetheless. Rufus smiled in a slightly devious manner, which was entirely more worrying than it was reassuring.

“Yeah, but it’s not a big deal.” Rufus dismissed, sending a wink Cas’ way, seemingly oblivious to his confusion. “By the time you get back here it won’t matter who sees him.” Rufus explained, albeit poorly, as he motioned with them to follow him out of the house. Cas shared a despairing look with Sam before hobbling after Rufus.

The Roadhouse had never been too far away and the trip passed in silence; it wasn’t tense as such, but it definitely wasn’t comfortable. For one, Rufus didn’t seem to particularly care about adhering to the speed limit and there were no back seats in the van. Sam hadn’t wanted to leave Cas alone in the back considering he was injured and wouldn’t be able to break his fall properly, so he got in the back with him. Which meant that they had both been thrown around quite a bit; Rufus always forgot to warn them about sharp corners until it was a second too late to brace themselves.

The van screeched to a sudden halt, and he reached out a hand to prevent Cas flying forwards, which would have worked better if Sam hadn’t also been toppled forwards by the momentum, which resulted in them falling on top of each other in a mess of limbs and muffled protest.

“Sorry.” He murmured, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks as he carefully untangled himself from the clone, helping Cas rise to his feet as Rufus opened the backdoor. Castiel blinked at his new surroundings and huddled closer to Sam, no doubt feeling exposed. Sam understood his concerns; it wasn’t a busy road but the pub which Ellen ran was mainly composed of people who regularly stopped off there on their travels.

“No one’s in at the moment; it’s technically still closed.” Rufus assured them, striding confidentially across the dirt road and towards the pub, only stopping to give them a chance to catch up. He kicked his shoe against the dirt impatiently, glancing around at the thankfully empty road.

Sam stayed close to Cas as they approached the door to the Roadhouse, not sure what he was expecting to find inside. He hoped that Ellen was already here, he didn’t want to wait outside in the open for her to come and unlock the pub. Not with Castiel beside him; if anyone came along and saw the wings then they’d be in a whole lot of trouble, regardless of what Rufus might think.

Thankfully, however, the door opened immediately when Rufus knocked on it, revealing Ellen’s stern face. She ushered them in quickly, dropping her rifle back onto the bar before locking the door quickly behind her. It was still dark in the Roadhouse, as it usually was. It somehow always managed to retain a murky atmosphere, even if this place had become the equivalent of a second home during his turbulent childhood.

“So, this is Castiel?” Ellen asked, turning her attention towards Cas, who stiffened under her gaze. She smiled warmly at him, though she could not hide the glint of curiosity in her eyes. “Don’t worry love, you’re safe here.” She promised, her voice lowering into a soothing tone that Sam hadn’t heard for a long time. It did however seem to do the job; Cas’ wings twitched, before dropping slightly as he relaxed them away from the tightly coiled position on his back.

“What’s the plan then?” Sam asked, saving Cas from searching for something to say in response to Ellen’s promise.

“Ash is out back with your brother; he’s a bit of an expert when it comes to stuff like this,” she started to explaining, directing the last part towards Castiel. “He’s going to falsify some documents, work on a cover story and all that. Rufus is here to make sure you don’t get into any more trouble; he knows how to work around the authorities. You two should probably stay here until we get the documents and the story sorted, that way the police won’t find you so easily.”

“What sort of documents?” Castiel asked carefully, a slight tremble in his voice as he shifted his weight, almost blending in with the shadows. Ellen looked at him, curiosity spiking immensely before she was able to restrain herself.

“I don’t know how much you know about what happens to clones after a transplant; but often they are sold, sometimes to individual people. What we’re forging is the documents to make out that Sam legally bought you, and hopefully find some way to disconnect you from the printing factory you escaped from.” Ellen explained, her eyes softening as Cas squirmed uneasily, his eyes darting around the pub before falling to the ground. “Don’t worry; it’s going to be completely faked. We’re not going to assimilate you, and we’re not going to make you do anything, okay?”

Castiel looked back at her, before turning his eyes towards Sam for confirmation. Sam smiled at him, pulling him closer into a makeshift embrace that was mindful of Cas’ injuries.

“Yeah. It’s going to be completely faked. You know I wouldn’t make you my slave.” He promised, his voice utterly sincere. Cas stared at him for a moment, before nodding slightly, though he remained tense.

“Oi, out of there!” Ellen snapped, whipping her body around towards Rufus who was rifling through the bar, managing to grab a bottle of beer before Ellen could continue to shout at him. She scowled, before turning back towards them.

“Ellen...since when are you running an underground clone saving organisation?” Sam questioned, unable to hold it back any longer. She pursed her lips, her hands coming to settle on her hips, leaning most of her weight on one foot.

“Look, as far as anyone is concerned we’re not. There’s no point, you can’t get anywhere with trying to convince people that clones are actually sentient when you can only get a hold of clones that have already been assimilated.” She started, her eyes flickering to the side with a contemplative frown. “But I’m not a fool. I know a lot of my regulars aren’t exactly friendly with the authorities, but I don’t ask questions and I don’t get involved. I also happen to know more about the printing companies than the average person, and though I never saw anything conclusive whist I worked there, I always thought the science didn’t quite add up. It’s why I retired early, opened up this place again. A few years after I quit, Ash came through here, started loudly mouthing off about the printing companies; of course no one listened to him, except he was saying what I’d been thinking all along, so I gave him free lodgings for the night because I wanted to hear more. Then a few days later he shows up with an actual clone at his heels; this one had already been assimilated, but he was able to show the signs of the procedure; tiny wounds on the head and in the corner of the eyes. It wasn’t conclusive, but it was evidence. It took a while for me to realise that even though this clone was stuck following orders, she was capable of having independent thoughts and emotions. At that point the authorities intervened, found out about her, and got her incinerated. But, Ash wouldn’t let it drop, heck he even managed to get Rufus convinced. We can’t do too much, but occasionally a clone manages to escape; almost like they can override the assimilation if put under enough stress, albeit I think it’s only temporarily. If we find them, we help them. Ash has got a whole bunch of contacts that will take the clones in, but treat them like humans.”

“You must have seen other clones that were, um, unprocessed?” He questioned, glancing at Cas out of the corner of his eye. Ellen shook her head.

“Castiel is the first we’ve come across.”

“Which is why it’s going to be slightly more difficult to convince the authorities...though it does provide an opportunity if you’re willing to take a risk.” Rufus chimed in, leaning on a barstool and taking a long swig from his bottle.

“We’re not going to take any risks.” Sam said, surprising even himself, although he decided that it was probably for the best. “But what exactly is going to be difficult about it?”

“The printing company will know that it’s looking for an unprocessed clone; so we need to make it appear that Castiel has been assimilated.” Ellen explained, drawing her brows together in concern. Castiel snapped his head up at the tone, his wings twitching uneasily.

“How do we do that?” Cas asked quietly, unable to hide the fear that trespassed into his voice.

“They’ll assess you, which means you’re going to have to act as if you have been assimilated. And we’ll need to create some scaring, but I’m still trying to figure out how to do that without causing any real damage.” Ellen explained, frowning as she did so. Castiel continued to stare at her, chewing on his bottom lip nervously. “I assume you’ve seen processed clones, but we can give you some more guidance on how to act.” Ellen added, directing her words towards Cas who swallowed, worry lines creeping onto his face.

“How long is it going to take to get the documents forged?” Sam asked before the silence could fully descend, feeling the tension that had invaded their conversation.

“Should be done by tomorrow morning.” Ash answered, appearing from behind the backdoor. Castiel stiffened next to him; his eyes trained on Ash as he walked towards the bar and snagged a bottle of bear for himself, despite Ellen’s obvious glare.

“It’d be done a lot sooner if you wouldn’t keep raiding my stocks.” Ellen retorted sharply, sharing the brunt of her displeasure between Rufus and Ash.

“A man’s gotta drink if he’s gonna work.” Ash responded with a shrug, taking a purposeful swig from the bottle.

“Don’t you even think about it, boy.” Ellen threatened when Dean appeared behind Ash, his eyes already set on the refreshments. He grumbled a protest, earning him a smug snort from Rufus who fondled his own stolen bear. Sam smiled fondly, but was distracted as Cas took a few steps back, leaning against him and using his body as a protective shield.

“Relax.” He whispered, grasping Cas’ hand and squeezing it reassuringly. Castiel looked up at him, his eyes wide and distrusting as his gaze darted around the bar.

“Well, as we’re all gathered we might as well start coming up with a plan to make sure the clone can pass the assessment.” Ellen continued, oblivious to Cas’ building panic. There was a scuffle of fabric as the three men claimed a stool, a slight muffled groan underlining their movements.

“He needs to be able to act the part. So does Sam for that matter.” Ash pointed out. Sam glanced up at him, furrowing his brows in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“No offence kiddo, but if you act like you are now, they’re going to sense something is up. When the time comes you need to at least pretend not to care more about him than you would an office appliance.” Rufus explained in a gruff voice, narrowing his eyes as his gaze carefully peeled Sam apart.

“Use the lawyer thing.” Dean interrupted obscurely, all eyes turning to him. “You know; the work obsessed low-life stereotypical lawyer thing. Just act like the dick that lawyers are meant to be and they’ll buy the whole slave thing.” Dean explained with a shrug, his eyes trailing towards the assortment of packaged food behind the bar.

“That might work actually.” Rufus commented with a speculative tilt of his head. “Yeah, workaholic who needs a slave to take care of the house and to help them unwind because you don’t have time to find a partner. Perfect.” Rufus summarised, turning his attention back towards Ellen for further direction.

“Sam...” Cas whispered, his voice too low for the others to hear. Sam looked at him, waiting for him to elaborate. Cas whined softly, gripping Sam’s hand back, the fear sparking in his eyes.

“It’ll be okay. We’re going to work this out.” Sam whispered back, stroking his thumb along Cas’ wrist. Castiel looked down unconvinced, but tightened his hold nonetheless, leaning closer against Sam’s side.

The others continued to talk, ignoring their exchange completely as they started debating about the best way to mimic the scaring. Sam could see Cas getting more and more tense the longer that the conversation drifted on, his shoulder blades bunching together whilst his wings trembled against his back, head ducked low to avoid looking at anyone else in the room.

“Listen to me, I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.” He promised, carefully unclasping his hold on Cas’ hand so that he could run it down his good wing, trying to soothe away the stress as his fingers parted the feathers. The wing stretched out under his gentle touch, rising slightly to bump against his knuckles, although Cas’ gaze remained fixed on the floor.

Sam smiled, feeling something warm stirring in his chest as he looked down at Castiel, trying to understand where the strong urge to protect him originated from. They had only known each other just a few days; they were still struggling to fully trust each other, but he could see the purity in Cas’ heart, no matter how damaged his soul was from the abuse he had suffered. Cas was nothing like Jimmy; aside from the physical resemblance, everything about them was different.

They were going to get through this, no matter what happened. Sam would not allow anyone to harm Cas anymore, he didn’t care what it took. This whole situation was so much bigger than them, based in a world of lies to perpetrate the exploitation of an entire group of people that didn’t deserve what was being done to them, regardless of whether they were clones or not. Sam knew that he wouldn’t be able to untangle himself from this; that he would have to keep fighting against the inhumanity, just as Ellen had been forced to do, albeit in subtler ways.

“Okay, if you two are done staring at one another, we can start preparing Castiel now.” Ellen said, interrupting his thoughts with a barely concealed grin. Sam stuttered something in response, a blush tingling over his cheeks.

“Might be painful, but should be no side-effects.” Ash explained, straightening up in his seat as he finished off his beer. “Just gonna carve a couple of holes; won’t be deep, we just need some scarring. I got a room out back set up.” Ash elaborated, slipping off his stool and placing the empty bottle back on the bar.

“Is it safe?” Castiel asked, his voice hoarse. Ash waved his hand dismissively.

“Completely. Almost nothing could go wrong.” Ash assured, somewhat unsuccessfully. Castiel narrowed his eyes, before carefully peeling himself away from Sam’s body and approaching Ash nonetheless. Sam trailed after him, not completely certain about whether he could trust Ash’s methods. He was a genius though, that much he could rely on...just, he didn’t know whether he was the most qualified to perform minor surgery.

At least the room seemed clean enough; more so than he would have expected from Ash. But otherwise the set-up was a little crude. There was a table lined with various equipment, which he hoped had been sterilised. Next to it was a chair, somewhat reminiscent of the sort you would find at the dentist. Otherwise the room was almost completely bare.

“Take a seat and we’ll get started.” Castiel stared at the chair warily, before tentatively lowering himself down onto it, almost as though he was afraid of being burnt. His gaze trailed along the various scalpels and needles that were lined up on the table, visibly gritting his teeth as he tried to relax himself.

“I think he’ll appreciate some space.” Ellen suggested, motioning for Rufus and Dean to get out. They glanced at one another, before silently obeying. Ellen patted Sam on the back before she too slipped out, closing the door gently behind her.

Ash snapped a pair of medical gloves over his hands, his eyebrows lowering in concentration as his hand reached for a small bottle of rubbing alcohol, dribbling it onto a cotton ball and dabbing it gently on Cas’ scalp, parting the tuffs of black hair with his fingers. Castiel squirmed beneath him, craning his neck in an attempt to see what Ash was doing.

“Stay still.” Ash ordered, moving Cas’ head back into a level position. Sam drifted to stand beside Cas, and took a hold of his hand, grabbing Cas’ attention. Castiel met his eyes, falling still as his grip on Sam tightened dramatically.

Ash deposited the rubbing alcohol back onto the table, and retrieved a long needle which had been removed from a syringe, as well as a scalpel. Castiel let his eyelids flutter close, taking a deep breath at the sight of the medical instruments.

“This part is going to hurt, but you need to stay still.” Ash warned. Cas swallowed, his muscles clenching in anticipation. Sam stroked his thumb along Cas’ knuckles, feeling the sweat that had started to dribble out of Cas’ palm.

Castiel hissed as Ash pierced his scalp with the needle but remained still. Ash moved slowly, not pushing the needle all the way in before he pulled it back out, only to circle around the pinprick of the wound, and sinking back in, pulling the edges wider. Droplets of blood rushed to the surface as Ash continued to work, this time bringing down the scalpel in order to widen the wound. An aborted whimper slipped through Cas’ clenched teeth, his fingernails digging into Sam’s hand as he struggled to keep still.

Ash removed the needle and scalpel, giving Cas a moment to catch his breath before he dragged it along to the direct centre of Cas’ head, repeating the procedure. The muscles in Cas’ face twitched rhythmically, a bead of sweat trailing down his forehead. Ash moved quicker this time, his movements growing more confident as he continued to work. The blood was ebbing forth at an increased pace, clumping lumps of Cas’ hair together as it rolled over his scalp. A few droplets reached the edge of Cas’ hairline, and slowly cut a line through Cas’ face. Ash removed the needle and scalpel, and repositioned it on the right side of Cas’ head, creating a line of three bloodied dots. He didn’t know anything about the assimilation procedure, but judging by the scarring that they were trying to mirror, he imagined that Cas was right when he said that it was painful. He wondered whether it was similar to a lobotomy in some ways. Whatever it was, it definitely involved the brain.

“Don’t relax just yet; that was the easy part.” Ash warned as he placed the scalpel and the needle back down.

“How reassuring.” Castiel muttered. Sam snorted, patting Cas on the shoulder as Ash focused his attention on the equipment. Cas glanced up at him, offering him a soft smile, even as he shifted anxiously.

“You’re really going to need to stay still for this one.” Ash said, peeling Cas’ eyelid back and using a strip of adhesive tape to keep the eyelid open. Castiel whimpered, pulling away from the touch before the tape could be applied firmly enough. Ash sighed, discarding the strip of tape and reaching for another. “I’ll do one eye at a time and it’ll be quick. Just keep your gaze pointed upwards and don’t move.” Ash instructed.

Castiel remained tense as the tape was applied, a slight tremor working itself down his body, until Sam could feel it through Cas’ hand. He managed to lift his gaze towards the ceiling, but his eyelid was twitching like crazy. Ash moved quickly, using one hand to try and keep Cas’ twitching muscles still, as he used his other hand to slowly slide a needle into the corner of Cas’ eye, just below the eyeball. Ash removed the needle almost immediately, twisting it around the wound to widen it before sinking in one more time. Cas bit down hard enough to actually draw blood, paling slightly as he suppressed a scream of agony.

Ash carefully unpeeled the tape, and Castiel fell backwards into the chair, breathing heavily as he clenched his eyes shut, a tiny speck of blood dribbling down from the corner of his eye. Sam moved forward, cupping Cas’ cheek in his hand and wiping away some of the blood, feeling Cas lean back into his touch. After a moment Cas cautiously re-opened his eyes, blinking up at Sam, his eyesight seemingly intact as he focused in on Sam’s face without issue.

“You ready for round two?” Ash asked, another strip of adhesive tape already prepared in his hand. Castiel’s gaze snapped over to him, running his tongue over his chapped lips before he nodded, leaning his head back despite the sheen of sweat that covered his ashen face. Ash wasted no time in taping the eye open.

This time Castiel all-but collapsed, panting heavily as he clenched his eyes tightly shut, groaning deeply. Sam leaned down next to him, an arm reaching around his shoulders and pulling him tighter against his chest. Castiel flopped forward, the trembling starting to ebb away, even as he nestled his head against Sam.

“C’mon, let me clean what I can.” Ash interrupted, gently moving Cas back down onto the seat as he started to carefully wash away the blood.

Castiel suppressed a sigh, struggling to maintain his concentration when the freshly made cuts were still stinging remorselessly. He bristled slightly under the gazes that were directed at him; he felt like their eyes were scalding him, leaving his skin blistering and red. But even with their attention fixed on him, their conversation was directed at Sam, who leaned against the bar with a contemplative frown on his face.

“You bought him two days ago, straight from the printing factory.” Ellen mused, glancing towards Ash who hummed quietly in agreement, his fingers tapping away at the keyboard with a skilled grace. “That should be a good cover.” Ellen decided, scanning Ash’s expression as he worked to make their lies look official.

“Will that be enough?” Sam questioned, his hands curling against the bar-top, nails scrapping gently into the worn wood.

“I’ll falsify a trail. Should be a piece of cake; we’ve done it enough times.” Ash chimed, not glancing away from his complex looking laptop. Castiel wondered whether Ash had made it himself, judging by the exposed circuit board, and the meticulous trail of wires and flashing lights, which seemed to create a jungle of electricity.

“We can falsify all the documents you need, but really it comes down to how you two act.” Ellen pointed out, her brown eyes flashing towards him, yanking him sharply away from his thoughts. He straightened where he was sitting, running his tongue over his chapped lips as he awaited further instruction.

“How should they act?” Dean asked, leaning over the bar counter from the other side. His brows were furrowed and his eyes retained a hardness that was not so much intimidating, as it was passionately protective. Castiel could not help but notice the way he almost leaned towards Sam; not enough to be touching, but doubtless their proxemics betrayed a closeness, or at least a desire to be close, that yearned within the both of them.

“Indifferent mainly. Sam particularly needs to act like he doesn’t really care about Cas more than he’d care about a pen. Primarily with the slave dynamics it’s focused on ownership.” Ellen explained. “It’s more difficult for Castiel; have you ever seen an assimilated clone before?” She questioned, tilting her head towards him.

“Many times, yes.” He responded slowly. They usually processed the clones about a day after their creation; sometimes two days if there was a backlog. But something had gone wrong with some of their equipment, before Anna, Samandrial, Gabriel and himself could be assimilated. It was fortunate really, as the opportunity to escape had not presented itself until the third day of their existence. “They did not have separate holding cells.” He added. Usually they’d be at least ten clones to one 2.2 by 2.4 metre cell. Not all would have been from the same ‘batch’, and as such at least half of the clones in a cell at any one time would have been processed.

“That will be useful then. The most important thing is to not speak, and to follow any and all orders immediately.”

“And don’t make eye contact.” Rufus added, staring into his glass as he swished the pint around, some of the contents sloshing over the rim. “Or react to anything that happens, no matter how it makes you feel. Just stay emotionless.”

“You will have to forgo the crutches, and most of the bandages you still have on. It’s fine for you to be injured- more so, it’s expected- but showing signs that you’re being treated for any injuries might be suspicious.” Ellen suggested with a grave expression, creases of sympathy etching across her forehead.

Castiel nodded blankly. He heard the rustle of clothes as Sam took a step closer to him, his side brushing against the edge of Cas’ good wing, where most of the feathers were flayed out with agitation.

“How do I explain the patio door?” Sam asked cautiously, his fingers carefully trailing across the tips of Castiel’s primary feathers. He glanced up sheepishly, his gut twisting itself into knots at the remembrance of that event.

“It wouldn’t do to try and fix that now; it’s too late and the police could turn up before we’re ready. If necessary just say you did it. You can claim you were trying to throw something at Castiel and missed. Otherwise use it as an excuse for not being in the house tonight; say it was too cold so you went to stay with us until you could get round to fixing it.” Ellen suggested.

He dropped his gaze, his shoulders slumping, partly from the strain of holding his wing up against Sam, but mostly from the strain of the situation itself. He’d only been alive for about a week, and already it was overwhelming…

“Here.” Dean’s voice washed over him softly, as a pint glass was set down heavily in front of him. He glanced up warily, unable to read the emotion that sparked across Dean’s face. “You look like you need a drink.” Dean explained with a shrug, motioning with a tilt of his head for Cas to take the glass. Which he did. Tentatively.

“I assume you’re paying for that.” Ellen commented wryly. Dean’s mouth transformed into a grin, his cheeks almost glowing.

“I’ll put it on Sam’s tab.” Dean replied, nudging his brother from behind. Sam stuttered forward a few steps, sending a playful glare Dean’s way.

“You better pour me one. I’m going to need it with you lot.” Ellen said with a weary sigh, sliding into the nearest barstool, even as she stared at the two brothers with a deeply embedded fondness.

Castiel found himself staring into space, before he was yanked back to the present when Sam nudged him with his elbow, staring down at him with amusement. He blinked up at Sam, struggling to focus in properly, Sam’s face appearing more as a blur of colour and disjointed shapes. He laughed lightly, although he wasn’t completely sure what exactly he found funny.

“I like your face.” He complimented, unknowingly slurring his words together. He grinned, leaning heavily against Sam, stretching out his back as he did so.

“You’re drunk.” Sam pointed out, large hands steadying him as gravity took over and nearly caused him to fall off his stool and plummet to the ground.

“He had like two drinks.” Dean’s voice echoed through him, and he nodded against Sam’s chest. He had drunk three pints of beer; it had been strangely bitter and almost unpleasant, but it had felt warm and cosy as it seeped down his throat. He liked it. He liked beer.

“Yes, but you started him on the shots.” Sam retorted, with a huff of laugher. Castiel moaned in agreement; they hadn’t been as nice. They had been too warm, burning down his throat instead of just gently soothing it. Though he quite liked the buzz that was travelling through his veins, powered along by the alcohol pumping through his system. It felt nice. Very nice. And also warm.

“Lightweights.” Rufus snorted with a roll of his eyes. Castiel rolled his gaze over towards the older man, grinning against Sam’s shirt, a dribble of saliva escaping his slightly parted mouth unnoticed.

“Sam you should take him up; you can use Jo’s room.” Ellen offered, her voice wobbly around him. He nuzzled his head further into Sam, his eyes fluttering closed. He didn’t need a bed; Sam was _far_ more comfortable.

“Yeah, I think you’re right.” Castiel groaned as Sam agreed, batting at Sam’s thighs as he was gently hoisted up, the crutches forced into his palms. He stumbled forward anyway, his arms feeling too heavy to use the crutches. The ground whirled around him, but Sam caught him before he could collapse. He laughed again.

“Carry me.” He suggested, elongating the vowels of the words until they no longer sounded like the words they were meant to be. Sam might have blushed; it was hard to tell, his cheeks were already rosy from the alcohol. Cas really did like Sam’s face.

“Just walk!” Sam said with a groan, trying to nudge him forward a few steps. He grasped his crutches, pouting up at Sam as he continued to nudge them along. Walking was too much hassle. But Sam was insistent, leading him forwards with an unrelenting hand between his wings.

“She said up.” He pointed out, as Sam steered him towards the room, which was quite clearly not up anywhere. Were there even any stairs in this place?

“Figure of speech, Cas.” Sam said with a low chuckle, helping to guide him towards the bed. He grabbed onto Sam’s shirt and pulled him down as well, laughing at Sam’s shocked expression as he toppled down on top of Cas.

“Your face is still very nice.” He slurred, bopping Sam on the noise, his body curling up with shakes of laughter as he did so.

“And you’re still very drunk.” Sam retorted, slowly managing to extract himself from Cas’ embrace. Castiel turned on the bed, peeking up at Sam from his new lopsided angle. Sam tried to bite back a smile, but failed. Castiel grinned as well, rolling onto his back again.

“Where you going?” He asked, frowning as Sam retreated to the edges of the room.

“I’m going to bed.” Sam said with a fond smile, hovering by the edge of the door. Castiel’s frown increased.

“This is a bed.” He pointed out, stretching his limbs out over the mattress as though to emphasise the point. Sam ducked his head, rubbing the back of his neck, this time definitely blushing.

“It’s not my bed.”

“It’s not mine either.” He responded. Sam chewed on his lip, his smile twitching slightly.

“It’s your bed for the moment. I need to get to my own bed.” Sam explained, shifting on his feet. Castiel blinked, the words drifting lazily by as his attention wandered. “You should go to sleep. We can talk in the morning.” Sam suggested, shutting off the light and disappearing behind the door. Hmm, sleep. That sounded good.

“Wait, Sam!” He called, scrambling into a somewhat upright position. The floorboards creaked outside, a sliver of light creeping back into the room as Sam opened the door, eyebrow crooked in question. “Goodnight!” he said happily.

“Goodnight Cas.” Sam replied, a smile encompassing his features, enough to let his dimples show. Castiel grinned, settling back down into a lying position and letting his eyes close, thinking about Sam’s face. It really was a nice face.

Castiel woke with a groan; his mouth was pasted with thick, congealed saliva which made his stomach turn with nausea. His head roared into life before he’d even opened his eyes, and he hissed, lights flickering past his closed eyelids. He turned pitifully onto his side, stretching his limbs like a cat, and letting another low groan sliver past his teeth.

“Here.” The voice broke through his consciousness, a hint of mirth attached to the familiar tone. He opened his eyes, his eyelids scratching across the cornea, the whole eyeball seeming to squirm as if a layer of dirt had burrowed beneath it. Sam’s face swayed into vision, gently pressing a glass of water into his hands.

He grudgingly crawled into a vague sitting position, just high enough to allow him to chug the water without covering his torso in it. Two white tablets were placed into his hands, and he took them without thinking. It was only after he swallowed them, their vague bitter aftertaste swirling around the back of his throat, did he realise the step he had taken in trusting Sam.

They used to drug them in the factory. There had never been much of a need for it, but some of the guards found it funny, in some sadistic manner, he supposed.

“First hangover.” Sam commented joyfully, taking a seat beside him. He scooted up the bed to give Sam space, moaning slightly in acknowledgement. Sam chuckled lowly. “You remember much from last night?”

“Pretty much everything from the second beer is just a blur.” He admitted, running a heavy hand down his sweat stained face. Sam smirked.

“Should have known you’d be a lightweight.” He murmured softly, nudging gently against Cas’ shoulder. “Ash has the documents ready; as soon as you’re up and ready we can do this.”

“Oh…” He said, the taut strain of his voice descending off into a heavy silence. Sam’s smile faltered with an uneasy sigh.

“It’ll work. It’s just this one thing and then you’re safe.” Sam said slowly, whether to convince Cas, or to convince himself, was a fact that was hard to discern. Castiel hummed vaguely, uncommitted to any view about how their situation would work out. “You’ll be safe too, right?” He asked, leaving off the ‘if this works’ purposely, even though the unspoken words still rang clear. Sam nodded, squinting ever so slightly, as though taken aback by the question. “I realised I never really thanked you. Or acknowledged the risk you were taking in helping me.” He continued, dropping his head.

“Yeah well, I don’t think I did it to be thanked.” Sam dismissed with a shrug, taking the empty glass from Cas and placing it back on the side-table.

“Why did you do it?” Castiel asked, glancing up at Sam. Sam shifted, and gave another shrug.

“I don’t know…it just seemed like the thing to do.” Sam said, his voice trailing off in thought. “An aspect of it was probably linked to Jimmy; but I think that was just a way to excuse my own actions. I don’t know if I would have helped you if you hadn’t passed out…I might have been too afraid to have done anything but turn you in if you hadn’t been so injured.” Sam admitted, fiddling with the fabric of his jeans.

“Afraid?” Castiel questioned, tilting his head and unable to help the faint twitch of his lips. Sam snorted almost self-consciously.

“Yeah well, they always say that clones that aren’t controlled can be dangerous…” Sam explained, much to Cas’ astonishment. “Plus, it was pitch black, I was alone and it was in the middle of what eventually became a blizzard. It was like the opening to every horror film I’ve ever watched.” He added, shifting seamlessly into his happy, vibrant, and lively self. Castiel liked it when Sam slipped into this cheery persona.

“I think I remember more of what happened last night.” Castiel said suddenly, the memories slamming into the forefront of his mind like a barrage of cannon-fire. “Oh god…did you carry me?”

“No, you wanted me to though!” Sam responded with a boisterous laugh, his whole body shaking from it, as the dimples flashed across his face.

“I kept talking about your face didn’t I…” He whispered, in a horrified voice. Sam’s laugh descended into a low giggle, his eyes flashing with amusement.

“Yeah, you seemed to be quite fond of my face last night.” Sam said, his laughter colouring the words. Castiel stifled a groan, a flash of pink sparkling across his cheeks.

They sat like that for a few more minutes, no more words passing between them, but the silence was not stifling. There was an almost cosy sense to the scene, even as Cas had to squint his eyes against the faint sunlight that crept below the curtains, gently bathing the room in its vibrant glow, and casting light shadows upon the walls of fuzzy and indistinct objects, that seemed to hover behind them, like an army come to protect them.

“We’re going to have to leave soon, aren’t we?” Castiel said, unwillingly to break the comforting silence that had nestled around them. But he knew this peace, this tranquillity, could not last for much longer. It was better not to drag it out.

“Yes.” Sam said quietly. “We have the documents.” He repeated, this time with a faint frown.

“So now it’s just down to us?” Castiel concluded. Sam nodded, his frown deepening. “What is it we need to do now?”

“Well, you’re going to have to walk without the crutches, and I’m going to have to undress your wounds. And we’ll have to attach the collar.” Sam explained, his voice almost blank of emotion, as a cold efficiency engulfed his expression. Castiel nodded, equally as distant as his companion.

“Okay.” He said.

Sam didn’t respond, but merely shifted closer towards him as his hands started to skim his wounded skin, gently peeling back a few of the tightly wrapped bandages. Castiel allowed himself to turn to jelly in Sam’s grip, letting himself be moulded and prodded, re-shaped and repositioned for Sam’s needs.

“It’s a good thing I took the stitches out.” Sam murmured quietly, as he peeled back the gauze to reveal reddened, but not infected, skin. The wound looked remarkably clean; Sam truly was skilled at all that he did. “I wouldn’t want to remove it now, not when we’re limited for time.” He added, gently resting one hand on Cas’ hip as he steadied himself, working with his other one to remove any sign of medical interference.

“Is the wing still sore?” Sam asked, a little redundantly. They both knew that it was; all his wounds ached, and sometimes burnt with pain. Particularly when the cold seeped into them, causing the muscles to seize and stiffen.

“Not particularly.” He answered instead. Sam hummed, unconvinced. They delved back into silence again, but this time it pressed down against them unwelcome, suffocating them with its presence.

“I think that’s it.” Sam said after a few more minutes had passed. Castiel nodded slowly, barely aware of the changes that had taken place, but feeling somehow lighter now that most of the bandages and padded gauze had been peeled from his body. His wing felt strange. The red, vein-filled and crackled skin seeming too naked beneath the air that prickled gently over its uncovered surface.

“Just the collar then.” He said, his voice tense despite his attempts to remain impassive. Sam nodded, his gaze trailing across the room uneasily. The room seemed generally unlived in; but despite this there were a few pictures that graced the walls, alongside an array of weaponry, which hung from the wall like prized trophies. He wondered where Ellen’s daughter- Jo he seemed to recall- actually was. Judging by the picture on the side-table of three smiling faces, all draped in military attire, it seemed likely she was serving time in the army.

“Do you want me to put it on, or would you like to do it yourself?” Sam asked, his hand brushing against Cas’ wrist - almost accidentally - as he shifted his position. Castiel would have liked to not have to deal with the collar at all, but he recognised his limited options.

“You can put it on.” He decided with a shrug. He didn’t want to put the collar on himself; it would feel too much like he was choosing this. Sam was the only one he trusted to attach it, without it having to mean anything.

He tilted his head, exposing his neck for Sam as the bed bounced gently beneath his weight as he scooped the collar from the floor, where it had been resting against the side table, hidden in the low shadows it cast. Sam’s hand brushed over his neck gently, his fingers trailing a path of warmth as a minute sense of comfort drizzled below the skin, but failed to penetrate the core.

It felt like an unyielding weight had been hurled on him the moment the buckle clicked shut, the noise rebounding around the room with utter conviction. He swallowed heavily.

“Is it too tight?” Sam asked, carefully wriggling his finger beneath the collar, trying to test the width of space that Cas had to breathe.

“It’s fine. Just…” He trailed off, words failing to express the clanging wealth of emotions that tumbled traitorously within him. “It’s as good as it can be.”

Castiel struggled to keep his eyes on the ground, able to hear the rustle of paper as the officer surveyed the documents, but not being able to see the reaction. He couldn’t even risk shifting on his feet, though he was at least permitted to keep all his weight on one leg, even if he couldn’t have access to the crutches. Thankfully it was actually less suspicious if he was limping and obviously injured; but too much sign of Sam caring about treating his injuries would raise the alarm.

The collar was digging into his neck; not strangling him, but enough to press uncomfortably against his Adam’s apple, stimulating the sensation of choking. He wanted to rip it off. He hated it. It was a heavy and unwelcome weight, with too many connotations to make Cas able to wear it without feeling sick to his very core. But he couldn’t do anything about it, not if he wanted to get through this.

“I assume that’s all in order officer?” Sam questioned after a moment of silence, presumably after the officer had stopped looking through the documentation. Castiel didn’t like how far away Sam was; though he wasn’t planning to repeat his drunken mishaps the night before, he did feel more comfortable when Sam was beside him, especially in situations where he felt threatened. But now Sam was almost two metres away from him, with the officers standing between them.

“It seems to be, but we’ll have to take it to the station in order to analyse it.” The officer explained. Castiel tried to keep his expression neutral, feeling eyes boring into him but not knowing whose.

“Of course.” Sam said and Castiel suppressed a shiver, able to hear the nonchalant shrug in Sam’s tone. He knew Sam was acting, but it didn’t stop his chest tightening with anxiety. “When should I expect it back?” Sam asked, sounding for all the world like it was a mere afterthought, and nothing of great consequence.

“Oh, it shouldn’t be too long. You’ll get it back tonight I reckon.” The officer replied, his tone lighter now, ostensibly falling for Sam’s ruse. “If I can just have the remote, then we’ll be on our way.”

“No problem.” Sam responded immediately. Castiel felt his heart clench, having to physically force himself not to glance up. Ellen said it wouldn’t hurt too much if they did shock him, but he really didn’t want to have to experience it at all.

“Get in the back.” The officer ordered, addressing Castiel directly for the first time. He moved, only looking up enough to see where he was going before dropping his gaze back down. He stifled any hesitation and slipped into the backseat, keeping his gaze straight ahead as the two officers got into the front, despite how sorely tempted he was to look back at Sam.

He was ignored for the rest of the ride, a fact that he was too grateful for to completely resent. The officers talked amongst themselves, mostly about trivial things which Cas didn’t really understand, but occasionally they’d talk about him, if not to him. He kept his expression blank, trying to hide the fact he was listening in as they talked briefly about the upcoming assessment. There were no details about what it would involve, only that the specialist had already been called in to conduct it.

“You can’t blame him for buying it though, it is a pretty good looking one.” One of the officers said halfway through the journey, craning his head to look Cas up and down, licking his lips in a crudely obvious way. Panic flared within him, his insides twisting uneasily, even as he forced himself to not react. He just kept looking ahead, as though he wasn’t aware of the officer’s intense gaze.

“Meh, I prefer more active participants.” The other one responded with a shrug, apparently not remotely surprised by his colleague’s behaviour.

“You wouldn’t be saying that if it had breasts."  The first retorted. The other chuckled guiltily, but didn’t say anything more on the subject.

He didn’t move as they pulled up at the station, waiting until one of the officers ordered him to do so. Already it was getting frustrating to have to act so reliant on others for basic commands. He couldn’t imagine living like this...A mindless slave for someone else’s benefit. No wonder every processed clone he had ever interacted with had utterly detested it.

“Strip.” He was ordered as soon as he was ushered into the room. The man sitting at the table didn’t even look up at him, apparently too engrossed in scribbling some notes in his journal. He did as he was told, ignoring the way that his skin crawled as he stood there naked, waiting for further instructions. In his peripheral vision he could see that he was standing in a typical police interrogation room, complete with what was no doubt a one-way mirror.

The man hummed in contemplation when he finally looked up at him, after what could have been almost five minutes. It was getting increasingly difficult not to squirm, but he knew there were too many unseen eyes on him that would pick up on the movement. The man slowly got to his feet and approached him.

“Why are you injured?” The man asked. Castiel stared at him blankly, remembering that he shouldn’t respond verbally to anything, even if he was prompted into doing so. The man waited a few seconds, before nodding, seemingly satisfied.

“Kneel.” The man continued, Cas doing as he was told. He felt hands brush over his hair, searching his scalp carefully. The man tutted, before tapping Cas chin to get him to lift his head so that the man could examine beneath his eyelids.

“When was this clone bought?” The man asked, glancing towards the mirror. From his position he could see the small bud burrowed within the man’s ear. The cover story as well as the documents said that Cas had been bought only two days ago, to excuse how fresh the wounds were. The man nodded, before adding “Where was it bought from?”

Ash had hacked into the Roman Printing Company’s database, editing the information there. He’d changed the information about Jimmy; changing the reference picture to that of another James Novak that lived in Kansas, whilst falsifying information about another client with Jimmy’s actual image to make it seem that Castiel was an entirely different clone to the one they were looking for. Ash had even made a trail to make it seem that Sam had bought him directly from the printing company with the client’s permission, to once more explain why Cas had no operation scars, like most clones used as previous organ donors.

“Stand.” The man ordered, continuing with the analyses, apparently satisfied with whatever information the people on the other side of the one-way mirror had given him. “Okay, now masturbate.” The man continued. Castiel startled before he could stop himself, trying to disguise it as just the effect of his actions as he gripped himself, keeping his gaze straight ahead and trying not to think about what he was doing.

He felt the panic coursing through him, the choking sensation caused by his collar being aggravated as his anxiety clogged his throat. He struggled to keep his expression blank, feeling like he was about to vomit as his body started to react. After a while his attempts to suppress a reaction resulted in something clicking within him and suddenly he was outside of his mind, and away from his emotions, his actions continuing without him having to forcibly guide them.

“Stop.” The man said after a minute or so. Castiel did as he was told, trying to keep himself firmly fixed in that little corner of his mind which he had stumbled upon; that mindset which shielded him away from any thoughts or feelings he had and just let him get on with the task at hand.

He clung to that separation desperately as pain rifled through him, a burst of heat exploding from his neck and drifting down his body, searing through his muscles. He fell to the ground silently and remained there as the surge of electricity coursed through him, shaking from the physical effect of it, but otherwise showing no reaction.

“Everything seems to be in order to so far; it responds to pain, humiliation and sexual situations correctly and obeys orders. I’ll continue with a more thorough analyses, going through all the standard orders and seeing how it responds, but it’s looking normal here.” The man informed, turning towards the one-way mirror. Castiel remained still, letting himself be swallowed by that icy dead part within himself, knowing he’d need the numbness to get through the rest of this process.

Sam had spent the day in varying degrees of anxiety, constantly glancing towards the clock as he paced throughout his house, unable to keep still for more than a few minutes. He’d managed to get a new window pane delivered and had installed it himself, which had distracted him up until mid-afternoon, at which point he’d found himself with nothing left to do but worry.

Ellen had taken him aside after Cas had fallen asleep; she’d firmly instructed him to make sure he took care of Cas after the analysis, because although they didn’t know much about the exact details of the process, she knew that it was taxing and it was going to take a lot for Castiel to get through that.

Night had already descended and he couldn’t stop thinking about her words. He glanced towards the door, urging time to move faster so he could get Cas back. Of course, there was also the risk that Cas would fail the analysis...He sighed, holding his head in his hands as he massaged his temples, trying not to think about that.

There was a knock on the door and he snapped his head up, on his feet in seconds and rushing towards it, just remembering to pause and look unconcerned as he reached the door. He forced himself to open it slowly, despite the fact he wanted to tear it open and get Cas inside as soon as possible.

He still risked a glance at Cas, but there was very little he could glean with Cas’ head still held low, still playing the role of the slave. He tore his eyes away and turned towards the police officer, managing to force a smile onto his face even as he felt the urge to repeatedly punch the man into the ground.

“Just returning the clone. Everything was in order, just a misunderstanding. But we have to be careful with these things, you know?” The officer explained, managing to look slightly sheepish.

“I understand of course, and it was no bother.” He replied, his smile becoming tighter the longer he struggled to keep it on his face.

“Your help has been appreciated Mr Winchester. We won’t keep you any longer.” The man said with a nod, pushing Castiel towards him. Castiel stumbled slightly, but managed to limp a few steps without attracting any attention.

“No problem. Have a good night.” He concluded, waiting for the officer to mumble his farewells before he slammed the door shut, turning his attention towards Cas.

"Hey, Jesus, are you alright? What do you need?” He asked, the worry sprouting on his features as his smile dropped immediately, unbuckling the collar and throwing it far away, rubbing the reddened skin softly to try and soothe away the pain. He guided Cas towards the couch, trying to control the panic that was steadily rising in his chest as Cas failed to reply.

“Cas? C’mon, talk to me. I want to help, what do you need?” He begged, slotting down next to Cas and pulling him in close, feeling how much he was trembling. He ran a hand through Cas’ hair, trying to reassure him. “What do you need?” He repeated, as the shaking intensified, a sob ripping itself free unchecked.

“You.” Cas whispered, looking up with tears streaming down his face. “I need you.” He repeated, the words piercing into Sam with shock, though he pushed it down, pulling Cas against him even tighter.

“I’m here.” He promised, resting his head on top of the shaking clone, feeling the mess of tears trailing down his shirt but not caring in the slightest. “I’m always here.” He whispered, trailing his hands up and down Cas’ back, his muscles trembling beneath the light touch.

Minutes ticked by and gradually the tears subsided, but Cas didn’t move, just leaned closer, soaking up Sam’s presence, gripping him forcefully as though he might slip out of reach. It’d gotten dark around them; even with the living room light shining down above them, it was not enough to get rid of the darkness that encompassed the rest of his house.

“Let’s lie down.” Sam suggested, giving Cas a moment to say no before he very gently scooped the clone into his arms. Cas’ body wrapped tight around him as Sam carried them towards the stairs and carefully made his way up, making sure to support Cas the whole time.

They reached the bedroom and he tenderly settled Cas out on the bed, coming to lie next to him. Castiel scurried backwards to maintain the body contact. Somehow they found themselves slotting together naturally; Sam wrapped an arm around Cas’ waist, which Cas clasped with his own hand. The wings settled between them, pressed tight against Cas’ back in an unobtrusive manner, allowing Sam to press his body in closer, their legs coiling around one another. Sam settled his head above Cas’ soft mop of hair, idly stroking his thumb across Cas’ abdomen as their breathing began to even out.

They didn’t sleep. Not immediately; but they hovered in a soft trance, just feeling one another’s presence and taking comfort in it. Even when they did let their eyelids flutter shut, they leaned into one another, keeping a firm hold on the other as they surrendered to sleep, dreaming of nothing but the feeling of each other.

Sam, as much as he wanted to stay, was forced to eventually return to work. Castiel was at least moving around easier, although he still needed the support of the crutches. He’d known he couldn’t stay with Cas all the time, not if he was determined to live in the real world of long hours and large bills. But it didn’t stop him worrying.

“You know my number if you need me, right?” Sam asked, hovering beside the door as he turned to face Cas once more, his briefcase hanging limply from his hands. Castiel sighed softly; enough affection seeping into his tone to gently warm Sam’s heart. It’d taken a few days to rouse Cas from the shell he’d retreated into after the analysis, but very gradually he was seeming to uncoil, and to come back to life. His face; though still an impenetrable mask, was softer. More emotions were beginning to swim to the surface, with Cas no longer feeling the need to reign them in.

“There is no chance of me forgetting.” Castiel pointed out. Sam ducked his head, acknowledging the fact that he may have been going over the top a little bit. He’d already asked Cas to repeat his number several times now, to the point that it was bordering on the frustratingly mundane.

“Right. Well, help yourself to anything you need.” He added, shifting on his feet, reluctant to leave quite yet, even with time ticking ever forwards and threatening to make him late. “I’ll see you tonight. Goodbye.” He forced himself to say, the words rolling strangely on his tongue.

Castiel’s expression shifted, a slight darkening of his eyes portraying the change, but failing to provide Sam with any insight into what he was thinking. Castiel fidgeted, glancing down at the floor for a moment. He gnawed on his bottom lip before snapping his eyes back up, his mouth parting gently.

“Goodbye.” Castiel said, his lips pressing into a thin line as he gave a curt nod, his body becoming stiff and tense. The air crackled with words left unspoken, but they remained beyond Sam’s reach. Pretending not to notice the strange, but extremely brief exchange, he returned the nod and slowly slipped out into the cool morning air.

The unspoken words were soon forgotten. Sam instead found himself absorbed in his long-neglected work, the old case spurring his interest anew as he read over the notes to freshen his memory. He leaned forward in his desk, his eyes blazing across the page as the words grabbed his attention.

His client was Mr Fitzgerald; a strange and rather unorthodox man, who definitely lived up to the stereotypical image of a somewhat deranged tree-hugger, but seemed far too unimposing to fill the term of eco-terrorist. That at the very least would be helpful to counter the charges of assault; he’d done enough work to know that despite their claims, all juries were biased by someone’s manner. Mr Fitzgerald did not have the typical narcissistic manner that people usually assigned to those convicted of violent felonies.

Still, that wasn’t what attracted his attention. He’d met Mr Fitzgerald; or Garth as he insisted on being called, and it was hard not to believe his claims. As a lawyer you often knew when your client was guilty and when they were actually telling the truth. Garth was adamant that the logging company was up to something illegal; supposedly with the unauthorised printing of clones.

Illegal printing did not happen a lot; but it was something that had always existed. The Government generally tried to keep it off the black market, and away from any terrorist organisations that were looking to build themselves an army. And for the most part they were successful. But it wasn’t too unusual for some of the bigger companies to abuse the technology for cheap manual labour.

With a frown he shuffled the paper back into his suitcase, leaning his head on his hands with a thoughtful gleam in his eyes. It wouldn’t be too hard to prove that the company was illegally manufacturing clones, and that proof would certainly help the rest of their case. It should get Garth off the hook for assault, and most likely result in him only being given a fine and a warning as opposed to prison time.

But his thoughts turned instead to the clones. He’d never have considered it before; but what would happen to the clones should they be proven to be illegally duplicated? Most likely they’d be incinerated. If not they’d just be sold on as slaves; most likely sex-slaves considering the greater demand. There was nothing for the clones to gain here.

He sighed, his thoughts turning to Cas, alone in Sam’s modest house. He knew that generally conditions for clones were dismal at best; there was no need for health and safety when you weren’t working with humans. They were given less rights than animals; in fact, they were given none. As long as they had just enough food and just enough sleep to keep working, than no one else was interested in what happened to them.

How had someone allowed this to happen? How could anyone, for the sake of medicine, consider it moral to convince the world that clones were nothing but inanimate objects? Surely anyone with a shred of decency wouldn’t be able to uphold such a lie, let alone convince others to continue it.

It was dark when he returned home; darker than the night he had first met Cas, but the conditions were considerably less hazardous. He could hear the gentle whirr of the television as he quietly opened the door and slipped into his house. A soft smile shimmered over his features as he recognised the dialogue from Dragonheart; the movie which he had bought for Castiel.

He peered over the couch, Castiel still unaware of his presence. He watched the clone for a moment unnoticed, crocking his eyebrow at the unusual position Cas had taken on the floor. His wings were stretched out on either side of him; his injured wing clearly bent and struggling to make the distance. Castiel wasn’t on his stomach, but was tilted slightly to the side. One of his arms reached around to massage his shoulder blade, whilst the other trailed down his wing – the uninjured one- gently massaging beneath the feathers as well as subtly manoeuvring the wing in minute rotations. His face was contorted in concentration, frustration gleaming bright in his eyes.

“What are you doing?” Sam asked. Castiel startled, his wings flaring above him as he scrambled onto his hands and feet with a pained hiss, before falling onto his backside, turning to face Sam with his wings coming to wrap around himself protectively. Sam raised his hands apologetically and took a step break, giving Cas some space to calm down.

“Sam...” Castiel acknowledged after a while, his feathers still twitching from the initial shock.

“Sorry. Are you okay?” Sam asked, frowning with concern. Castiel glanced at his wings, stiffly pulling them back against his back, his shoulders tensing with the movement.

“I’m fine. You just took me by surprise.” He admitted, his wings dropping slightly, but Sam didn’t fail to notice the grimace of pain that flashed across his features.

“Are you hurt?” He questioned, approaching Cas with swift strides, his eyes searching the clone for any sign of new, or worsening injury. Castiel frowned, rubbing under his eyes with the bottom of his palm.

“No. It’s just my wings...” Sam raised an eyebrow, kneeling down in front of him. Castiel pursed his lips before continuing. “Humans aren’t meant to have wings. We don’t have the proper muscles to support them; so instead it causes a lot of strain. They’re very heavy and they pull against my spine, and it aches quite considerably.” Castiel explained with a sigh.

“Here, lie on your front and let me try something.” Sam suggested, passing Cas a pillow for him to lie on. Castiel shifted uneasily, before slowly rolling onto his stomach, craning his head so that he could see what Sam was doing.

“I used to do this with Jess.” He explained, the words flowing more freely than he had anticipated. Castiel blinked at him, his expression softening slightly as Sam started to knead his knuckles against the tight muscles of Cas’ back. It was indeed full of heavy knots, and it was clear it was sensitive from the way that Cas kept wincing when he brushed over a particular area.

“She had a car crash about a year after we started dating, and she had problems with her back for months. She said this used to help.” He continued to explain, feeling Castiel gradually starting to unwind beneath him. There was still a lot of tension, but it was beginning to dissipate.

“When did you meet her?” Castiel asked unexpectedly after a minute or so had passed, his face resting against the pillow. Sam’s hand stilled for a moment, before he trailed his knuckles to the centre of his back, rolling his hand against the vertebrae.

“College.” Sam said, a small smile gracing his features as he remembered their meeting. They’d both been so young then; wide-eyed and full of life. It might not have been love at first sight, but he knew from the moment he met her that he would never cease to be fond of her. The feeling merely grew, with each luscious smile, each sensual bat of the eyelid, each kind and flirtatious word. He’d loved her. So very much. “We were in the same class. But it was really my friend that introduced her...”

He paused quite suddenly, the words snapping into silence. Brady had been a friend, but he was far from that now. Not that he understood what had happened; he hadn’t left a note, or given any sign of a motive. Just one day it had happened, and Sam’s life had been shattered.

He glanced around his unfurnished house; the unpacked boxes looming like weights in his mind, knowing where each one was located in his house. Four years ago. It seemed like no time at all; just minutes ago she had been with him, softly bumping her head against his shoulder, swaying her hips in a playful way. Her eyes were still so bright. He could even smell her perfume; he didn’t know the brand. Which seemed strange, because he’d always brought her the same perfume. He’d taken care to know her brand at the time. But it had faded from his mind; vanished without a trace.

“I read the book you gave me.” Castiel said carefully, in the voice of one that knows they’re trespassing into thoughts they don’t feel like they have a right to intrude on. Sam was thankful for the distraction, and quickly turned his attention back to the massage.

“Did you like it?” He asked, trying not to sound too hopeful. He’d realised early on that his house was morbidly bare of much entertainment. He didn’t spend much time here as it was, and he’d never had to entertain a guest for long. He was somewhat agitated that Cas was going to get cabin fever if they didn’t find some way around the monotony that infiltrated his living area.

“It was confusing at times, but I liked it. Crowley was an interesting character; they all were really.” Cas explained, tilting his head to glance up at Sam, his eyes searching his somewhat sullen face.

“I can get you some more if you want.” Sam offered, raking his brain for more titles that Cas might like, before he developed a better idea. “Or you could come out with me at the weekend and take a look.” The tension that had started to drain from Cas’ body returned in an explosion, the clone stiffening uncomfortably beneath him.

“I’d rather not.” Castiel said quietly, his shoulders hunching, the muscles in his back knotting even as Sam’s fingers worked to loosen them.

“Why not?” Sam asked with a frown, giving up on the massage as Cas gently rolled into a sitting position.

“It’d be needlessly dangerous. And I’d have to continue to act like I was processed, which is not something I’m willing to repeat without good reason.” Castiel explained, stressing his words carefully as he urged Sam to understand. Which he did, albeit reluctantly. He hadn’t thought about the fact they could never act as equals in public; Cas could never act sentient in public.

“I’m sorry, I forgot.” He admitted, rubbing the back of his neck which burnt with shame. Castiel dismissed it with a small half-hearted shrug. “But you can still order books online. And we could always go to the Roadhouse if you wanted to get out of the house without having to act.” He suggested, although he could see that Castiel was already closing himself off to the conversation.

“It’s fine. But thank you.” Cas responded, a sigh tracing his words. “I’d much rather go to bed now, I’m still tired.”

“Yeah okay. I probably will go up with you now.” Sam said, already rising to his feet. By unspoken agreement they’d both continued to sleep in the same bed. Mostly for convenience’s sake, as he didn’t have any other bed set up and it wouldn’t be fair for either of them to sleep on the couch. Besides, he had the feeling that Cas didn’t want to sleep alone anymore; his sleep was often troubled with nightmares, and he was constantly tossing and turning. Thankfully, they’d abandoned the handcuffs, hiding them away back in the storage room and out of sight, no longer lacking the trust in one another.

Sam was gone for the rest of the day. Castiel was often left alone for the majority of the week, and though at one time he would have treasured the solitude, he found himself growing agitated with restlessness. It was not so much that he wanted to go out; the thought of doing so filled him with a deep dread. So much so that whenever he limped around the house, he found himself walking in an arch around the doors and windows, so as to not get too close.

But nevertheless, there was an urge to do something; a part of him that bristled with contempt at his increasingly mundane routine. A part of him that still knew that he was not truly free, and that he was unlikely to ever be. He was still a caged animal, just now his cage was larger and shrouded with apparent kindness. He’d been domesticated.

However, as much as the fury at that knowledge boiled beneath the surface, he could not attribute it to Sam. He felt with such a strong, fiery conviction that Sam truly did not only want to help, but also cared for him. Hopefully with feelings beyond the fondness one has for their pets.

Still, there was something demeaning about the position he had found himself in. Unable to go out due to fear and prosecution, yet discontent to stay in. His feet wandered with his thoughts, and he counted down the long hours for Sam to return, feeling like an abandoned house cat waiting for its master’s return. It unsettled him immensely.

There were books to read, films to watch, television shows to lose himself in. A world of fictional escape surrounded him, primarily due to Sam’s generosity. But his mind was too agitated to be swayed by fiction. His thoughts were fixed in a dull and dismal future, from which he saw no escape.

Perhaps if this was his life for the next couple of years, he’d be content to wait it out peacefully. In fact, it would even be enjoyable. Sam’s company was pleasant, and he was given free reign of the house. But there was something missing which all independent beings yearned for, and with the knowledge that he would forever be absent of it, he did not know how to find happiness.

Sam had been distant for the last week or so. He came home much later, buried himself in his work, hunched over the laptop, Castiel more often than not forgotten. There had been a brief period when Sam had fallen into a comfortable routine of coming home and eating with Cas, before spending almost a quarter of an hour massaging Cas’ aching back. Now Sam barely ate, and it was up to Cas to force food into his hands.

He wasn’t sure what to do. A more childish part of him revolted against it; wanting to scream and yell for an explanation. To understand what he had done wrong. But this childish aspect of him had never been given much time to flourish; he wasn’t given it that time now. Instead he remained patient, watching Sam overwork himself with concerned eyes, wondering whether it was indeed his own actions that had forced Sam to dive headfirst into his work to avoid him.

He wondered briefly what would happen if Sam did ever tire of him. If he did meet someone new, who wanted to move in and not have to put up with the presence of a clone. Even if they accepted his presence, they wouldn’t do so as anymore than a slave. Even without the hypothetical new partner, if Sam didn’t want him around anymore, what would happen?

His thoughts tumbled on, an unsatisfying and unwelcomed anxiety. He paced, a slight limp in his step even without the crutches. He didn’t need them as much anymore, although he still used them occasionally when his leg started to tire.

His thoughts were too loud, too overwhelming and he needed some way to articulate them. He contemplated briefly phoning Sam, but he did not want to be a distraction.

He did however know another number, which he contemplated as he stared at the phone. With haste, before he could lose his nerve and withdraw to his thoughts for another day, he dialed in the number and held the ringing phone to his ear with trembling hands.

“Hello?” The familiar voice answered; the tone was cautious, almost an edge of suspicion creeping into the sound. Castiel swallowed, shifting on his feet uneasily as he did so. “Now listen here, I don’t appreciate these sorts of calls. Now, either speak up or get off my line.” The tone turned harsh, the syllables clipped and spiking in a restrained frustration.

“Sorry Ellen...” He mumbled, his heart thundering in his chest, regretting his sudden impulsiveness and wishing he had Sam by his side to bring him courage. There was a sharp pause.

“Cas, is that you?” Ellen whispered in a softer voice, the cold scorn absent now. He mumbled an affirmative, having no idea what else to say. He didn’t even know why he had phoned, only that it was too late to withdraw now. “Wait here, let me move somewhere more private.” She said, a crackle of background noise invading the phone, which gradually faded as she walked away. Castiel held his breath.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, her voice rich with concern. Castiel felt as though he’d been wrapped in a verbal embrace, and he sunk down onto the couch, unsure of what to say next.

“It’s nothing. You’re probably busy.” He choked out eventually, hanging his head heavily as he did so. There was a heavy sigh on the other end of the phone.

“Well, you’re as stubborn as a Winchester I’ll give you that.” She said, fondness seeping into her voice, even amongst the chiding tone. “But I ain’t no fool, boy. Now what’s going on?”

“I don’t know. I feel...unhappy?” He answered anxiously. He felt stupid; he had no right to call her. Her loyalty rested with Sam, not him. But her tone evoked a sense of trust, urged the truth to come forward.

“What’s making you feel that way?” She prompted, after giving him a moment to elaborate.

“Everything I suppose. The situation I’m in. I just...I feel like a prisoner, no matter how kind Sam is.” He explained, a pinprick of guilt infiltrating his heart. He expected her to scold him for his insolence. She didn’t.

“You’re situation isn’t an easy one, and I certainly don’t envy you. It’s okay to feel like that, I would in your position. Have you spoken to Sam about it?” She asked, her voice miraculously soothing. Castiel shook his head on impulse before remembering to answer verbally.

“No. Even if I wanted to, there hasn’t been a chance.” He explained, surprising himself with the extent of detail he willingly vocalised.

“Why is that?”

“He’s been too busy with work to pay me much attention lately. Either way, I’m not sure what good it would do. It isn’t like he can do anything.” He said with a shrug, his chest seeming to tighten, judging by the way he struggled to get a take a proper breath.

“Sam’s a workaholic if there ever was one. Don’t take it too personally; I think he’s in court in the next couple of days so he’s under a lot of pressure now. Just make sure he’s not working himself into a stupor.” She explained, her voice gentle and reassuring. Confidence sparked against her words, assuring him that she knew what she was talking about. “But don’t give up hope darling. You might not be able to act in public the way you want, but there are plenty of places you can go that are outside the public eye. You can probably get to a few yourself, as long as you walk there wearing the collar and ID no one will notice you, and once you get there you can drop the act. I can send you a list of some places near you if you want.”

“I don’t want to leave the house.” He retorted weakly, pulling his wings in nearer to him. There was a confused pause on the other end of the line. “I do want to, I just don’t feel safe doing so. The thought scares me...” He elaborated, a burn of humiliation alighting his cheeks.

“You’re not the only person in the world to suffer from agoraphobia. There’s ways around it. Google it and you’ll see techniques to help you. Talk to Sam about it; this sounds like something he needs to be aware of.”

“He is, in some ways. He knows I don’t like going out, but he thinks it’s perfectly rational for someone like me.” He explained. Ellen clicked her tongue thoughtfully on the other end of the line.

“Make it clear that you do want to do these things, you just feel unable to and then he’ll be able to help you. This is something he needs to know, this isn’t something you should be tackling on your own.” Ellen continued, trying to convince him.

“I’ll try. But later, when he’s not so distracted by work.” He concluded, unsure of whether he would ever get around to it. Ellen hummed, ostensibly unconvinced but willing to let the subject drop for the moment.

Castiel didn’t attempt to broach the subject for the next couple of days that followed. He did however try his best to help Sam in any way he could; he couldn’t help with the work, but he did make sure to provide Sam with all the nutrition he would need. Sam often mumbled a thank you, but his gaze remained firmly fixed on his work.

“I have the case tomorrow.” Sam said quietly, breaking the tentative silence that had come to rest over them. Castiel peered up at him from his place on the sofa, tilting his head ever so slightly.

“Is that good?”

“Probably. I think I have a strong case, and at least when it’s done I won’t have to spend so much time working.” Sam explained, glancing up at him through dark eyelashes, the ambient light of the lamp throwing stark shadows beneath the contours of his face.

“That’s nice.” Castiel commented, pursing his lips. He was thankful that Sam would be able to spend more time with him; the days were growing increasingly long and wearisome as his sense of solitude became more profound.

“I was thinking maybe we could do something to celebrate...?” Sam suggested, raising an eyebrow in question. He shifted his feet nervously, but managed to maintain eye contact, a twinkle of hope piercing through.

“Oh...” Cas responded, his own gaze trailing away. He considered that this would be an opportune time to talk to Sam about his discomfort with going outside, a fear that went far beyond what he knew to be logical. Still, he shied away from the opportunity, leaving it to fester for another day.

“I wanted to take you out but it’s not like there’s anywhere we can eat safely. Maybe just have a dinner date here? Well, not a date, just you know...a special dinner?” Sam stuttered, a rosy tinge trailing along his cheeks. Castiel narrowed his eyes with confusion.

“We eat dinner with each other regularly.” He pointed out. Before Sam had been completely lost to his work, they’d always eaten dinner together in the kitchen. It still wasn’t unusual for them to eat together, although it was rarer now for Sam to bother to make the trek to the kitchen, so they just both sat down on the couch, Sam still taking the opportunity to glance at his notes.

“Yeah I know; but we could do something proper. You haven’t had a Chinese takeaway before, so we could do that! And watch films...” Sam trailed off with a frustrated sigh. Castiel frowned, understanding their conundrum better than Sam did. They’d already exhausted the majority of things you could do in one house. “Sorry, there isn’t a lot we can do that’s different, is there? Not when you’re basically trapped here.”

“I wouldn’t try to stop you if you wanted to go out somewhere and meet someone else.” Castiel offered. Maybe he should take Ellen up on her offer, and find some places that the both of them could go undisturbed. But still, Cas wasn’t overly keen on going out anyway unless he had to, not since the analysis.

“I know you wouldn’t, but I really meant I wanted to do something special with you...not that...I just mean you’re the one that’s had to put up with me like this, and in all honesty I’m not exactly the most social of creatures.” Sam explained, a sense of anxiety creeping around the edges of his words.

“Oh.” He said again, averting his gaze to the floor. “I don’t mind what we do then.”

“I’ll tell you what. I’ll get the Chinese, a few packs of beer and like a board game or something.” Sam suggested, shuffling his work to the side whilst he turned his whole body to face Cas. Castiel nodded gently, looking up into the soft and kind features.

“That sounds nice.” He agreed with a smile, which Sam eagerly returned.

The court case came and went; but not without leaving him dangerously pissed off and agitated. By all accounts he had won, and his boss was more than pleased with his work. Garth probably would have thanked him for his hard work whatever the outcome. But Sam was still livid, and he refused to hang around for long, physically having to bite his tongue to stop him from speaking out.

The logging company had eventually admitted that they had illegally printed the clones and had dropped most of the charges. But Sam had been right to be fearful for the clones’ fate; they’d been paraded at the front of the court like pieces of evidence; which they were in the court’s eyes. No one batted an eyelid at the gruesome sight of their battered and twisted figures, bones protruding sharply against grey sickly skin. Darkened blotches of bruises marred their bodies, alongside weeping lacerations.

No one had cared about the obvious abuse. The logging company wasn’t even relieved of possession of the clones, just forced to pay a hefty fine and to have their illegal equipment forcibly removed from them. That was it. They dropped the charges of assault and the judge decided to punish Garth’s actual crime with a warning and a short period of community service.

He’d known better than to hope for the clones to be saved, in any sense of the word. But the blow still stung deep; more so now that his thoughts turned to Castiel, unwillingly picturing him in the place of all those pitiful clones.

He’d gone to the pub rather than returning home straight away. He downed three drinks in rapid succession, the alcohol burning down his throat but doing nothing to ease his frayed nerves. His fingers flexed, tapping a restless beat against the table as he contemplated getting another drink. But he didn’t want to leave Cas alone for too long, not with his thoughts constantly turning towards the clone given half the chance.

He deserted his car in the parking lot, and continued on. There was very little about his demeanour that revealed how drunk he was, but he was still over the limit, a faint buzz accompanying every movement. Besides, he was certain that if he were to open his mouth his words would start to slur subtly, but noticeably. He was always good at holding his drink, but tonight he wasn’t overly interested in doing so.

On his way he stopped off at the Chinese takeaway, pacing to and fro whilst he waited for his order to be cooked. He could have ordered this at home, but it was probably easier to just do it whilst he was here. Besides, he was close enough to home so as to not worry about it cooling down too fast.

Whilst he was waiting he popped into the off-license and grabbed a couple of packs of beer, remembering his promise to Cas.

It was still quite cold outside; winter had carried steadily onwards. Even now it was dark, and it was barely five O’clock. There hadn’t been anymore snowstorms, but ice still paved the ground, making his walk far more treacherous than it should have been. But he’d lived in this place for long enough, and he was used to the extremes of weather. Just a few more months and they’d be bathed in an overly hot summer.

He took the Chinese with a curt thanks, before hurrying down the road. It was probably less than quarter of a mile that he had to walk, and his strides quickened as his thoughts whirled along at break-neck speed. The wind howled through him, but he barely noticed the chill that infiltrated his body and sent a shudder through him. Within a few more minutes he was at the door.

“Cas?” He called, as he usually did when he came home. Castiel appeared as Sam slammed the door behind him, looking cautiously out from his hiding place to ensure that it was indeed Sam that had come back. His eyes trailed down Sam’s body with a distinct frown.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, his eyes wide and searching, imploring Sam to be honest. Sam shrugged him off, instead placing the Chinese on the coffee table, before unloading the beers into the fridge, grabbing one for himself and Cas. Castiel hovered behind him, chewing on his lip uneasily.

“Enjoy.” He said, passing Cas the beer as well as a plate and some cutlery. Castiel took it reluctantly, his frown deepening as he trailed behind Sam, leading them back into the living room.

There was silence as they ate; or in Sam’s case, drunk. He was thankful for it, even though he felt a pinch of guilt. This wasn't exactly what he had pictured when he said he wanted to do something special, and he could tell from the agitated eyes that bore into his face that Castiel was far too concerned for him to be focused on the meal.

He sighed heavily, jumping back onto his feet and heading into the kitchen, too quickly for Cas to follow before he returned with the remaining beers, that weren’t yet chilled. He didn’t particularly care. He opened another can and took a deep swig, just trying to get the warmth of the alcohol within him. Castiel watched him with wide eyes.

“I’m sorry. I’m just frustrated.” Sam admitted, the strength of the alcohol allowing the words to come more freely. Castiel regarded him carefully.

“The case didn’t go well?” He guessed.

“Technically it went brilliantly.” He said in a slight growl. Castiel blinked, shuffling uneasily. “But they didn’t care about the clones.”

“What clones?” Castiel questioned, tilting his head sharply. Sam made a small noise of irritation as he reached for another can.

“The logging company was illegally printing clones.” Sam explained, wiping some of the excess liquid away from his chin. “They looked like shit Cas. They were being abused. No one cared. They still have the clones; they just had to pay a fucking fine.” Sam hissed, chucking the empty can away from him. Castiel flinched.

“There’s nothing you can do about it.” Castiel said, his tone attempting to be soothing but his expression betrayed his anxiety. Sam frowned.

“Why is it so hard for other people to see? It’s so obvious.” He said, a whine entering his voice.

“Sam, most people don’t know any better. You did what you could for them, but there wasn’t anything more you could do.” Castiel argued, leaning forward slightly.

“I know there wasn’t anything I could do!” He yelled, watching with a sinking feeling as Cas shrunk back suddenly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to...I shouldn’t shout I’m sorry.” He apologised, dropping his head into his hands, failure seeming to stain his body.

“It’s okay. The reaction is just instinctive, I’m not actually scared.” Castiel whispered. Sam snorted, but looked up at him nonetheless, feeling a surge of emotion erupt within him at the sight.

“I keep thinking about you Cas.” Sam said suddenly. Castiel frowned, tilting his head in confusion. “What if you were in that position?”

“I’m not. You know I’m not.” Castiel assured him, shuffling closer and placing a hand on his thigh.

“What if you get hurt?” Sam continued, failing to be reassured.

“I’m not going to be hurt. We’re being careful.” Castiel said, but Sam was already shaking his head.

“What if I mess up and you get hurt?” He asked, almost begging now.

“I trust you with my life Sam.” Castiel replied earnestly, his voice strong and unwavering. Sam lowered his chin to his chest, feeling immensely unworthy of such praise.

“I don’t want you to get hurt. I don’t know what I’d do.” He whispered, the alcohol drawing the emotions out. “I care about you; you know that right? You know how much I care?” He asked, his gaze searching Cas’ eyes.

“Sam...” Castiel started, returning Sam’s gaze, a sparkle of intensity causing hope to flare in his chest. Sam leaned forward, catching his lips in his own and stealing away his words.

Cas’ chapped lips were rough against his own, providing a pleasing friction which he eagerly searched out, a soft hum of content slipping past his own lips. Gently he nibbled against Cas’ bottom lip, his tongue slipping into the gap as his mouth parted in a low moan. There was the slight tang of beer as he searched Cas’ mouth, but otherwise it tasted fresh. Almost minty; he wondered whether Cas had been chewing gum recently.

His tongue grazed across the top of Cas’ mouth, and he felt a shudder run through the smaller man. He grinned against the kiss, trailing over that spot again before continuing in his exploration. Castiel’s own tongue was pliant against his; there were a few sloppy attempts at returning Sam’s own actions, before Cas simply let himself succumb to the pleasure.

His hand trailed down Cas’ bicep, slipping beneath the arm and clasping him beneath his shoulder blade, gently bringing him close against Sam’s own body. His skin tingled with fire at each touch, his fingers gripping the soft and supple skin tightly, his nails scraping across the flesh, paying particular attention to where the wings protruded. His other hand tugged against Cas’ hair, exposing Cas’ neck with a soft groan.

Sam’s heart was thundering in his chest as he withdrew from the kiss, taking the moment to manoeuvre Cas down onto the couch. He scrambled on top of the clone, his hand still gripping Cas’ hair as he trailed light kisses down Cas’ throat, occasionally grazing the skin with his teeth, sucking against it with bruising force. His other hand trailed lower, slipping up Cas’ torso and brushing against the nipple, scraping the nail of his thumb in a circle around it.

His hips rolled forcefully, moaning at the friction that greeted him. He shifted downwards, his lips trailing a line down Cas’ collarbone as he continued to caress his hardening nipple. His hand gripped against Cas’ hips, pinning him to the couch as he started to unclasp the buckle. He dropped his mouth to Cas’ nipple, rolling his tongue against it, hearing Cas gasp above him, squirming slightly beneath him.

In his drunken haze he didn’t notice the startled hiss of air that forced itself past Cas’ now tightly clenched teeth. He just continued to nibble and tug with his teeth, cooling the warming skin with a lick from his tongue before moving onto the other nipple. He pulled the zipper down, tugging softly as he tried to remove Cas’ trousers.

He did however notice when Cas fell completely still, tensing up beneath him. Sam was yanked back to the present and he paused, feeling the slight, almost imperceptible tremor that invaded Cas’ muscles. He moved back, glancing at Cas’ pale face, his eyes clenched tightly shut, and the indents from his teeth visible on his lip from how hard he was biting down.

“Shit, Cas I’m so sorry!” He apologised frantically, throwing himself away from the prone form. Castiel gradually opened his eyes as Sam knelt down beside the couch. “I didn’t mean to, I forgot. I shouldn’t have done this.”

He shouldn’t have even kissed him without asking. He hadn’t even thought about it; he’d been too relaxed, too consumed by alcohol and his own emotions to realise that Cas might not be able to say no even if he really wanted to. He hadn’t meant to force Cas into anything; that was the last thing he had wanted to do! He’d thought the kiss had been returned, he didn’t think to check...

“Cas, I’m an asshole. I should have thought. Are you okay?” He said, fighting the urge to carefully scoop Cas up in his arms, knowing that the motion was unlikely to be welcomed anymore. Castiel blinked, seeming to rise from a stupor before gradually nodding. “I didn’t mean to do that. I shouldn’t have done that, it was a mistake. I’m so sorry.”

“I should go...” He decided, ducking his head. Castiel failed to respond, so he took it as an affirmative. “I’ll get you a cover. Just sleep for now and we’ll talk about it in the morning. If you want to get away, we’ll go to Ellen and you can find someone else. I’d understand.” He offered, feeling his throat start to clench.

He scrambled to his feet, blinking back the wetness that had invaded his eyes. He was grateful that Cas could not see his trembling expression as he hurriedly left the room, already knowing that he wouldn't be able to sleep tonight. 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

Castiel didn’t sleep.

He couldn’t. His mind was whirring with a thousand thoughts, still trying to fully comprehend everything that had happened. Sam had kissed him. He’d actually kissed him. It had felt nice; he could remember the heat that pooled at his abdomen, leaning into the searching touch and trying to keep up with the skilful precision of Sam’s movements. Even around the strong taste of beer that lined Sam’s mouth, it had been pleasant.

 

He guessed that he couldn’t keep up with the pace at which Sam was moving. The kiss was perfect. It had satisfied a longing he didn’t even know he had. But he couldn’t go further than that; he’d wanted to. He’d known Sam wanted to. But his body froze under the touch, dread seeping unwelcomed into his bones.

Seemingly it didn’t matter what he felt about the kiss. It wasn’t going to happen again, not when Sam regretted it so much. He curled onto his side, wondering about what was going to happen. He didn’t want to leave Sam, he didn’t want to give up what he now realized he wanted, not after getting that first taste of what it was like to truly have Sam. To truly love him.

He doubted whether Sam returned the blooming feelings that Cas felt swimming around within him. There was physical attraction; Sam had after all initiated the kiss. But a lot of people in his short life had been physically attracted to him, but it never meant more than pure, hateful and vile lust. Sam was of course different...but how different was he?

He could hear the creak of floorboards upstairs. Sam must have gone to the bathroom.

The darkness that lingered in the house seemed to intensify, becoming a living entity that enclosed his body in its faint touch, isolating him from the rest of the world. He sighed, turning onto his back as he stared up at the ceiling, wondering whether he could pinpoint Sam’s location. His body yearned for the contact.

He couldn’t wait until morning to see what would happen. He refused to be passive about this situation any longer. With a surge of determination he flung off the limp cover, and scrambled onto his feet. His injured leg ached, but he ignored it, focusing on the adrenaline as he clambered up the stairs, refusing to back down.

However, when he got to the top of the stairs it was like every ounce of strength evaporated from his body in one explosive moment. He shuffled on his feet, realising that he hadn’t thought this through at all. He had no idea what he could say. He glanced back down the stairs and contemplated sneaking away when the bathroom door swung open and Sam emerged.

They made eye-contact and everything stopped. He swallowed heavily, staring into red-brimmed eyes. Sam was staring right at him, but his face was crestfallen and he maintained his distance. Outside a car roared passed.

“Do you want to come in?” Sam asked eventually, dropping his head. Castiel nodded, his lips pressed tightly together. A moment passed before they both stiffly walked to the bedroom.

“I’m sorry.” Sam said almost immediately, taking a seat on the still-made bed. Castiel frowned at him.

“Why?” He asked, noticing the way that Sam’s shoulders bunched together as his head came to rest in the palm of his hands.

“I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you. Not after everything you’ve been through. I didn’t even ask.”

“What makes you think you took advantage?” He asked cautiously. Sam peered up at him through his eyelashes, his expression impenetrable.

“Cas you clearly didn’t want to do anything like that. I shouldn’t have assumed you did; I should never have acted without your explicit consent.” Sam responded, his voice rough around the edges.

“I liked the kissing...” He pointed out. Sam tensed, but didn’t respond. “You’re right, I felt uncomfortable when you wanted to go further; but a part of me still wanted to do so. Sam, I do care for you in that way.” He said, picking his words very carefully. Sam sighed, slowly raising his head to look at Cas.

“Don’t say that if you don’t mean it.” He responded, his voice more resigned than it was sharp.

“I do mean it.” He confirmed, raising his head slightly. Sam furrowed his brows.

“So you’re saying you love me?”

“Do you love me?” Castiel responded quietly, wringing his hands together nervously. Sam’s features softened.

“I do. I didn’t realise it until now, but I do. I honestly do love you Cas.” Sam said, his eyes glistening in the faint light. Castiel felt something swell in his chest, and for a moment he couldn’t speak, his throat clogged up with an indiscernible sadness, despite the relief and happiness that coursed through his body in contradiction. “I don’t want to hurt you.” Sam added in a whisper.

“I love you Sam, and I trust you. I don’t want to leave you.” He said, confidence suddenly rearing up inside of him. Sam blinked, a faint smile flashing across his features, which was undermined by the slight wobble of his lower lip.

“What do we do now?” Sam asked in a broken voice. Castiel carefully took a few steps towards him and sat down beside him, feeling the slight press of warmth against his arm.

“I don’t know.” Cas admitted, lowering his gaze to the floor. There was silence for a moment. “We could just let it happen...” He suggested.

“What do you mean?”

“We both love each other. Neither of us wants to fight against it. Can’t we just accept that and continue with our relationship in this new light?” He explained, glancing up at Sam. Sam responded with a soft smile.

“I would like that.” Sam agreed, placing a gentle and tentative kiss on Cas’ forehead. He closed his eyes for a second, enjoying the contact before opening them again to look into anxious hazel eyes. He smiled, leaning into Sam’s chest, his heart soaring as Sam’s arm carefully wrapped around him in a caring embrace.

He woke the next day to a feather light touch across his cheek. His eyes fluttered open, meeting Sam’s soft gaze. Sam’s hand continued to cart through his hair, their bodies pressed tight against each other beneath the cover. He could feel the warmth of Sam’s breath flickering across his face, and he carefully leaned in for a kiss.

It was sloppy, but Sam returned the motion, his tongue worming its way inside Cas’ mouth and tracing the sharp contours of his teeth. He moaned as Sam’s grip on his hair tightened, the kiss becoming more passionate. His wings fluttered from the spark of warm pleasure that fizzled throughout his being, and he reached out with his own arm, snaking his hand down Sam’s torso.

Sam broke away from the kiss, running his tongue over his soft lips. He smiled, his eyes glimmering brightly as he stared down at Cas, before placing another chaste kiss on Cas’ forehead.

“Morning.” He greeted, his voice still thick with sleep, but alive with serenity. Castiel moaned in response, nuzzling into Sam’s neck and eliciting a soft chuckle from him.

A thin stream of light drifted in from behind the blinds, giving the room a faint orange glow. The shadow of night still lingered against the early morning light, creating a strange haze that partially shrouded the far away objects from his view. Outside he could hear the faint call of birds, muffled beneath the crunch of thick snow as cars revved awake, people already starting their trek to work.

Sam sighed softly, wrapping his arm around Cas’ back, his hand brushing against his wings. The fingers trailed along his feathers, some of the tension draining from Cas’ body as he melted further into Sam’s touch.

An image of the factory flickered into his mind unbidden; the cold, clinical nature of the holding cells. Small, cramped conditions within the white cracked walls. The guards that stood in position outside, occasionally leering in with their vile faces. The strong firm hands that gripped him tight and forced him up against the wall; the reek of foul breath trespassing down his neck. A bruising squeeze of his bicep; a vicious tug against his aching wings. A kick to the back of his knees.

This isn’t what he had pictured his future to be like. Even when they had managed to slip past the guards, moving with a frantic desperation as they charged from the transport vehicle, letting Gabriel take charge and lead the way. What had happened to Gabriel? Had he too been saved by a kind stranger, or had he fallen foul of the elements. Or been captured, stripped of his conscience, and enslaved?

He’d been meaning to ask Ellen whether a clone matching Gabriel’s description had found them, had sought aid with them. But he already knew that the answer was likely to be no, and he wasn’t prepared to fully give up hope on his wayward kin. For now, he could still force himself to imagine that Gabriel had triumphed and found his freedom.

“Are you okay?” Sam whispered, still stroking his fingers across Cas’ wings.

“Yes. I’m just thinking.” He admitted. “Are you?”

“Yeah I’m fine.” Sam replied. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing important.” He said with a sigh. Sam hummed thoughtfully, but didn’t say anything more on the subject.

It was a few weeks later that Sam decided he needed to share the news with Dean. He wanted to tell Bobby as well, but the man who he’d come to see as his father was oblivious to the situation, and probably wouldn’t approve if he ever did find out. Not so much about the fact that it was two men; Bobby was not so petty as to be bothered by such a thing, and there was already a general knowledge that Sam was bisexual, even if most of his major relationships had been with women.

It was the fact that Bobby had a certain view of the world; clones were just clones, and you don’t put strangers above family. In Bobby’s view, Jimmy was one of them, and Sam’s initial reluctance to turn Cas in could be seen as a betrayal, despite the complex circumstances. Bobby would probably still come round though, especially if he had Dean, Ellen and Rufus supporting him. Still, Sam wanted to avoid any family tension for as long as he could.

Telling Dean about the relationship was a big step within itself. Dean hadn’t exactly grown out of the protective older brother phase, and he’d never been overly trustful of Cas. And Dean knew how disastrous Sam’s past relationships had been. But that was also part of the reason why he wanted to tell Dean; he needed someone who understood to talk to, without having to force all of his unwarranted fears onto Cas.

He was yanked out of his thoughts with a thump of a pillow against the side of his head. He turned betrayed eyes on Cas, who sat on the other side of the couch with a faint grin but an otherwise guiltless face.

“ _Ow._ ” He complained in a deadpan voice, struggling to keep his face expressionless.

“You’re over-thinking again.” Castiel said, excusing his own actions with a shrug. “It’s going to be fine.” He added in a more serious voice, his expression softening. Sam sighed, earning a concerned tilt of the head from Cas. “What is it you’re worried about?”

“It’s just...It’s been a while since I’ve had a proper relationship with anyone. He’ll probably think I’m rushing into things, especially considering how potentially dangerous our situation is.” He confessed, dropping his eyes to the floor.

“You’re his brother. You’ve told me enough about him to make me certain that he cares about you above all else.” Castiel said, scooting closer.

“Yeah I know. I’m just nervous.” He admitted, a trace of a groan wrapping around his words. Castiel gave him a small smile, leaning in to place a chaste kiss on Sam’s cheek, and taking a hold of his hand and giving him a reassuring squeeze.

“Don’t be. It’ll be fine.” Castiel promised.

Almost a second later the doorbell rang, the shrill sound piercing through the house and announcing Dean’s arrival. Sam took a deep breath to steel his nerves, before clambering to his feet.

Castiel stayed where he was, probably more out of habit than anything else. It didn’t matter that they had documents to secure Castiel’s safety, the clone was always cautious not to stand within view of the door if anyone came knocking. It was a shame that Cas had to live in such fear, but he supposed that there was very little they could do about the world they lived in.

“Hey Dean.” He greeted, trying to hide his nervousness beneath a smile. Dean raised the six-pack he had bought with him, a cheerful glint in his eyes.

“Hey. I came prepared.” Dean replied, pushing past Sam and entering the house as if it was his own, which it might as well have been. Over the last few years Dean had been such a frequent visitor that he seemed more relaxed in the house than Sam had ever been.

“Hello Dean.” Castiel said quietly, standing awkwardly by the side of the couch. Dean’s eyes flickered over to him, nodding in acknowledgement despite the discomfort that seemed to emanate from both of them. Dean wasn’t used to Sam living with other people, especially not the clone of one of their best friends. It wasn’t anything personal, but Dean sometimes took a while to adjust to strangers, especially when it concerned his brother.

“I also bought the Xbox, figured we’d play some Fifa and get hammered.” Dean suggested, kneeling down in front of the television as he pulled the game console out of his padded bag, quickly untangling the cables and plugging them in. Castiel watched him with avid attention, a faintly curious sparkle in his eyes.

“Yeah, okay. The thing is we need to tell you something first...” He interrupted, shuffling on his feet as he thought of the best way to word this. Dean turned round to look at him, a concerned frown etched onto his features as he surveyed his younger brother. “You might want to sit down.” He suggested, following his own advice. Quietly Castiel slipped in next to him.

“Is everything okay?” Dean questioned, reluctantly sitting into the armchair, his gaze trained on Sam.

“No, everything’s fine. More than fine.” Sam reassured quickly. Dean nodded slowly, furrowing his brows in confusion. “It’s just we have some news.” Sam explained. Dean ran his tongue over his lips and tilted his head to the side. Sam sighed before continuing. “Basically me and Cas are in a relationship. Like a proper relationship. Romantically.” He said in a garble of syllables. Dean blinked slowly, his eyes trailing towards Cas.

“Right...” He said slowly, as though he was still struggling to process it. Castiel remained firm under Dean’s prying gaze. “And you think this is a good idea?” He asked, his eyes flashing back to Sam’s.

“ _Dean._ ” Sam warned, bristling under the attention. Dean pursed his lips, staring intently at Sam to try and get him to understand. “It’s been years. I’m allowed to have a relationship.” He retorted, ignoring Cas’ confused glance.

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying?” He questioned, his voice sharp. Dean looked at Cas briefly before responding.

“Just don’t do something stupid because you think you’re safe.” Dean responded carefully.

“We’re aware of the dangers attached, but there’s no reason for the authorities to perceive our relationship as romantic. But we will be careful.” It was Castiel who spoke this time, his firm gaze meeting Dean’s.

“What about Jimmy?” Dean asked, an accusatory tone entering his voice. Castiel’s gaze dropped to the ground, his wings and shoulders drooping.

“This has nothing to do with Jimmy.” Sam retorted. “Castiel might look like Jimmy, but he isn’t Jimmy.” He elaborated defensively. Dean hummed in reluctant acceptance.

“How long has this been going on?” Dean asked.

“A couple of weeks.” He admitted, watching Dean’s reaction carefully. Dean sighed heavily.

“Well I can’t say I agree with it, but I’m not going to try and stop you.” Dean explained. “But, I will interfere if I think you’re taking advantage or endangering my brother.” He warned sharply, his features hardening as he turned a fiery gaze towards Castiel.

“I understand, but you needn’t be worried. I would never hurt him.” Castiel agreed with a curt nod. Dean watched him for a few moments, as though making sure the message had truly sunk in before turning his attention back towards Sam.

“If we’re done with all the touchy-feely stuff, I’m going to set up the Xbox.” Dean said. Sam smiled, a huff of laughter bubbling past his lips. Dean gave him a tight lipped smile as he walked past, his eyes soft and loving.

Castiel had told Ellen about the kiss. He’d told her most things, finding some sense of familiarity and trust with her kind but stern voice. She’d been patient and understanding, perhaps more so than Dean had been, but like Dean she was unable to give their relationship her full approval.

_“Cas, I’m glad you’re happy with Sam, and that he’s happy with you. But that boy has been through a lot of hardship when it comes to relationships, and I need to know that you truly understand that. If this is just a crush, then don’t pursue it. If it’s love, then just be careful. This could end badly for the both of you.”_

_“I know. I love him, I truly do.”_

_“Then God help the both of you.”_

Castiel sighed against Sam’s chest, pressing himself closer to the warm body of his lover. He felt Sam shift, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead as though he could sense Cas’ despondency. He smiled sadly, letting Sam scrape his fingers across his scalp.

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked, his hushed voice ringing loud against the quiet night. He peeked up at Sam, pulling away slightly in order to meet his eyes.

“I want to do something.” He said suddenly. Sam frowned, turning onto his side, the sleepy laxness of his muscles seeping away.

“What do you mean?”

“Ellen told me that there’s a small mound by the river where very few people go, and only has one entrance down which you can see anyone approaching. I want to go there.” He explained, thinking about the list of places Ellen had told him to write down. Very few of them seemed as pristine, yet as isolated as that one had. Nevertheless, even at the thought of it his heart was pounding.

“I thought you didn’t like going outside?” Sam pointed out, his fingers brushing against Cas’ palm under the covers. He looked down.

“It terrifies me. But I don’t want to be scared.” He admitted, unable to look up at Sam when he was greeted with silence.

“If you really want to go we’ll find a way. I’ll be with you the whole time, and you can head back whenever you want.” Sam offered after a moment, his face contorted in thought as he mentally mapped out a plan.

“That would be nice.” He said, trying to calm his nerves. Sam glanced down at him, searching his face carefully.

“We can do it tomorrow. But only if you’re sure...”

“I am.” He agreed, ignoring the way that his throat tightened at the prospect.

He’d barely slept that night; the anticipation and dread had swarmed throughout his mind, keeping his awareness fixed to the waking world. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go out; he really _really_ did. It was driving him insane to be essentially imprisoned in one place, and he needed the freedom to stretch his legs, to feel the fresh air and the wind streaming through his wings.

But the fear remained as insidious as always. He didn’t understand why it reared its ugly head now; after all he had been through. He’d been prepared to escape this house before, back when he thought Sam was a threat. He’d even suffered at the mercy of the elements with his initial escape. The fear had been present, but it had not overwhelmed him into immobility as it was doing now.

Besides, he felt like Sam deserved more than him. Even Ellen seemed to imply that she thought he wasn’t good enough; that Sam had already had too many disastrous relationships and needn’t be wasting his time on another. His own actions seemed to cement this belief of his inferiority. He was too fearful of everything; he was barely even living, jumping at the slightest touch. He felt more like a captive animal than he did a human.

By remaining inside, he was forcing Sam into captivity as well, in at least some sense of the word. He had no doubt that Sam loved the outdoors; he went running at the weekends. He only ever did it early in the morning, usually returning before Cas had even awoken. But even the few pictures that decorated the wall told a story of someone who yearned for the simple pleasures of the outdoors; from sports to camping, Sam had spent a significant portion of his life emerged in nature.

Even now he could detect Sam’s excitement; it blossomed throughout the house, brightening the otherwise dimly lit room in a wave of vibrant colours. A tremendous energy ignited the air, bringing the house back to life; shaking off the dust and the cobwebs and beginning anew.

“I think I’ve packed way too much food, but we can always have the leftovers for later.” Sam said, reappearing from the kitchen with a grin pinned to his face, his skin glowing healthily. Castiel smiled back, trying to hide his nervousness as he clasped his hands between his knees, sinking further into the couch.

“It’s been ages since I’ve had a picnic. Years probably.” Sam commented idly, placing the large picnic basket on the table as he shimmied into his jacket.

“I’ve never had one.” Castiel said, trying to find words to fill what felt to him like a gaping silence. Sam’s eyes softened, and he sat down beside Cas, their shoulders brushing against one another.

“Relax. I’ll be with you the whole time, and if it’s too much we can come back at anytime. I want you to enjoy this, don’t just do it for my benefit.” Sam comforted, his lips brushing gently against Cas’ cheek. He swallowed heavily and nodded, trying to reawaken his confidence.

“Are you ready?” Sam asked quietly, his voice tinged with regret. Castiel nodded, his eyes trailing Sam’s movement as he stiffly gathered up the collar. They wouldn’t be allowed out of the house without it firmly clasped around Cas’ neck. With a sigh he lifted his chin, exposing his neck for Sam.

Sam attached the collar quickly, making sure that it wasn’t too tight around Cas’ neck. He clenched the fabric of his jeans, trying to push down the welling panic. He leaned into Sam’s touch instead, focusing on the calming sensation of fingers brushing through his hair.

“You know I got you those jumpers a few weeks ago?” Sam said, letting his hand continue to rest on Cas’ head. Castiel made a small noise of acknowledgement, glancing up at Sam. “Well, I didn’t know how to modify them myself. But I was talking about it with Ellen, who said that she’s had to do the same thing for other clones. So I’ve got a few jumpers that might work if you want to try them on now?”

“Wouldn’t that be suspicious?” He asked, despite his brimming excitement, staring up at Sam with adoration.

“Ellen said that even the factories have had to provide some modified clothing when the conditions have been far too cold for people to even survive without. And occasionally people will do it if they don’t like the feeling of cold skin, or don’t want anyone else to see...um, no, Ellen said it would be fine.” Sam broke off, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably. Castiel understood his reluctance; most clones that belonged to individuals existed purely as sex slaves. People tended to be possessive about the clones they had bought as well; no doubt they didn’t want others to see the ‘goods’ that they thought belonged solely to them.

“I’ll go and get them.” Sam said, excusing himself as he made his way upstairs. Castiel mentally traced his steps, listening to the creak of the floorboards to figure out where his lover was. Sam returned within a minute, the jumpers slung carefully over his arm.

“Here.” Sam offered, motioning for Cas to get onto his feet as he very carefully helped to pull the jumper on around his wings. He pulled his wings in tight around his body, his injured wing, although no longer as painful as it had been, still gave a twinge of discomfort as it was pinned against his back. The fabric stretched, his wings bulging beneath it uncomfortably and threatening to tear it.

Sam guided his movement with his hand, gently tugging one of his wings through the slot that existed in the back of the jumper. The hole which his wing escaped out off was padded, and felt snug and soft against the muscle of his wing. It took a little bit longer for Sam to get his injured wing into position- it was still quite stiff and partially immobile- but eventually it too slid through the hole, and found a comfortable position to rest in.

“How does it feel?” Sam asked, taking a step back to assess his handiwork. Castiel glanced down at the soft jumper; the sensation of having something wrapped so snugly around his chest was unusual but definitely wasn’t unwelcomed. It was blue, and mostly plain aside from the pattern that trailed over his chest; a mixture of black and white colouring arranged into a regular sequence that was surprisingly pleasing to the eye.

“It’s perfect. Thank you.” He whispered, looking up at Sam with bright, loving eyes. Sam beamed down at him, and grabbed him in a kiss. Castiel parted his mouth, letting Sam’s tongue slip inside and returning the motion with more vigour than he’d previously been capable off. He mewled softly when Sam’s hand gripped the jumper, brushing the material against his bare chest in a way that ignited a faintly ticklish sensation.

“Come on.” Sam said in a breathless gasp, pulling away from the kiss just as Castiel’s head was starting to become fuzzy with a need for oxygen. He smiled faintly, his heart beating from excitement as well as fear now that he had Sam by his side.

Still feeling slightly giddy he managed to slip through the door with little hesitation, amazing himself at the ease in which he did so. Even the brief walk to the car disappeared in a pleasant haze, and within no time he found himself safely buckled into the front passenger seat, the engine revving to life beneath his feet.

It was still cold out; the sky was filled with dark, foreboding clouds and the ground was treacherous, paved as it was with a thick covering of ice. The cold had infiltrated the car, and even with the heating on at full blast, his breath condensed in a white puff. Even the windows were slightly foggy where they had iced up over night.

“It’s not really an ideal time for a picnic.” Sam commented, glancing at the snow powdered ground with a frown. “Still, I suppose that means no one else is likely to be out.” He added, focusing his attention back on the slow-moving traffic.

Castiel didn’t comment. It would be unwise to be seen talking, which was a possibility should anyone from the neighbouring vehicles happen to glance over. He didn’t know much about picnics, although the word did invoke an image of rolling grasslands, and the flicker of soothing warmth against skin, which he supposed would not be possible in this weather. Idly, he realised that this was the only weather that he had known, and although he knew what summer was, he’d never truly experienced it for himself.

It didn’t take them too long to get there; or at least close to their final destination. Sam admitted that they still had to walk for a few minutes to get to the mound that Ellen had told them about. Castiel realised as the car rolled to a halt that he was reluctant to leave the vague security that the car seemed to offer.

He hadn’t actually walked that far. Although he’d felt like he’d finally battled something that had held him trapped for weeks, he realised with a start that it had been but the smallest of several, much larger and more intimidating obstacles that he would have to face. He couldn’t even see that far ahead and he had no idea in which direction the mound would be.

A flicker of panic started to stir, sensing his uncertainty and jumping on it, the anxiety slowly seeping out along his bones. The car had rolled to a halt, and he was vaguely aware of Sam’s eyes on him. He fiddled thoughtlessly with the seat belt. He stared out of the window, feeling a profound sense of separation from the world beyond the glass.

“We don’t have to go.” Sam said quietly, each words accompanied by a puff of condensed breath. Castiel glanced at him, pushing his lips into a thin line. He swiftly unbuckled the seat belt with a distinct click, before it zipped back behind his shoulder. Holding his breath, he stumbled quickly outside, a cold brush of wind enveloping him as he left the safety of the car.

It took a few seconds for Sam to follow him out; he moved much slower, with an ease that Castiel could not afford. They hesitated a moment before Sam retrieved the basket from the backseat and came to stand next to him.

Sam’s arm wrapped around his shoulders, and pulled him against his side. Castiel nuzzled closer with a sigh, melting into the gentle kiss placed on the top of his head. After a moment Sam tentatively pulled back, but did not break the contact. Instead Sam’s hand wrapped around his tightly, the warmth of his flesh a stark juxtaposition from the chill that surrounded them.

“It’s not too far.” Sam promised, slowly guiding them forward. The crisp ground crunched beneath their feet, and it felt to him like the sound was agonisingly loud. He glanced warily at their surroundings, half-expecting to find someone watching them from the shadows. But Ellen had been right; this place was deserted, with only the gently swaying trees to keep them company.

They moved towards a path, made of a layer of dried mud. Distantly he thought he could hear the roar of the river, but it may have been an illusion. He did not think that it was cold enough to turn the water to ice, although he wouldn’t have been overly surprised if the river had frozen over completely.

The trees wrapped around them, bare branches encircled them overhead, curling round each other like menacing claws. They blotched out most of the white sky, leaving them in the shadows, but protecting them from the icy wind. It wasn’t yet safe. Anyone could walk up and down this path, but fortunately the path stretched onwards, neither twisting nor turning, so they would have seen anyone approaching.

Halfway down the path he felt Sam tug gently on his hand, guiding them into a heavily concealed walkway. It hadn’t been marked out like the path before, but the shrubbery had been flattened slightly, indicating that people did occasionally come this way, but not often. It would be hard to find it if you did not already know of its existence.

The path began to gently slope upwards, and he felt himself slip. His body jerked backwards, but Sam grabbed him around the waist and hauled him back upwards. His heart continued to pound, more so than it already had been before the almost-fall. A shiver ran through him, this time not caused by the cold. The panic flared again, and he distantly thought about running.

“Cas?” Sam whispered, or at least it seemed to Castiel that he had whispered. He bit down on his lip, trying to hold back a low whine. “Take deep breathes, we’re not in danger. Just try to breathe.” Sam instructed, running his hands down either side of Cas’ hair and trying to get him to look at him. Castiel hadn’t even realised he’d been hyperventilating. He didn’t know why he felt such a fear that it clogged his lungs, and made it hard to breathe deeply.

“Cas, try to copy my breathing.” Sam suggested, his voice managing to drag Cas’ awareness to him long enough to make eye contact. Once the eye contact was there it was like a bridge had been built; a link to the real world. It took a few more moments for him to start trying to replicate Sam’s deep and exaggerated breathing, but after a few stuttering breaths, he got a few deep ones in.

“Sorry.” He stuttered, not yet having enough breath to sustain proper speech. Sam shushed him gently, still focusing on trying to get him to take proper breaths. Gradually, it started to feel as though his chest was no longer being crushed, and he could get some air in.

“Do you need to go back?” Sam asked gently as the panic started to subside. Castiel vigorously shook his head, ignoring how tempting the idea sounded. “Are you sure?” Sam added with a frown.

“Yes. I slipped. That’s it. I was stupid for reacting.” He said, ducking his head away from Sam’s grip.

“It’s not stupid. You were already nervous; it’s just that the initial panic that comes with slipping triggered the attack that was already looming.” Sam explained, his eyes rimmed with worry. The words did little to console Castiel.

“I just want to carry on.” He said softly. Sam regarded him for a few moments, before he nodded, and retrieved the basket that he had set down earlier. Castiel hovered by his side, leaning eagerly into his warmth as Sam clasped his hand in his own.

The path continued to slope upwards, but there were no more incidences. The trees thickened in clusters around them, seeming at once both protective and menacing. Like an army. An army that surrounded them, with unknown troops and unknown agendas. Castiel couldn't help the nagging fear that accompanied him, despite how much he tried to repress it.

As they moved further up the forest became thicker, too thick to allow easy access from any other routes than the one they had taken. It was somewhat reassuring. There was a flicker of brown in the distance, different to the faded brown oak that surrounded them. It was a fence, that seemed to cut across the forest.

They approached it, the slope seeming to reach its peak by the barrier of the fence. Above the top of the fence branches peeked out, and seemed to continue on undisturbed. He believed that it was a private ground, although he wasn't sure who owned it, or why. But it was almost certain that no one would be approaching them from that side.

Sam broke away from his grip for a moment, as he spread a blanket over the ice sprinkled grass. Ellen had been right; the mound was isolated in the best way possible. Castiel knelt down gradually, his eyes scanning every direction, and finding himself pleasantly satisfied with what he saw. There was no where that anyone could really approach other than the path directly in front off them. It was like safety.

He sat with his back pressed up against the fence, making sure that the path was always within his eye line. Sam sat down next to him after a beat, and placed the basket in the middle of the blanket. They both shivered. It wasn't ideal weather for a picnic, of that there was no doubt. But it didn't seem to matter. Not now, not when he was suddenly outside. Suddenly as close to free as he could ever be.

"I'm proud of you." Sam said suddenly, leaning across the basket and pecking him lightly on his frostbitten cheek. "I don't know if I could have been as brave as you if our situation was reversed." He added, his warm breath tickling over the skin of Cas' face.

Castiel would hardly consider what he had done brave.

"Here." Sam said, unpacking the basket and handing him a warm flask. He cupped it in his hands, enjoying the way that it warmed his palms. "It's tomato soup." Sam informed with a smile, foraging further into the basket and retrieving two cups and two spoons, which he offered to Cas first.

"Thank you." He said, smiling slightly. He tried to picture this scene in the summer, but he could not. There was something comforting about the cold. Something that brought people together. Something that made everything that much more intimate.

"I used to have picnics all the time." Sam admitted after drinking a few spoonfuls of his soup. Castiel glanced at him curiously.

"When was the last time you had a picnic?" He asked. Sam ran his tongue over his lips, his eyes trailing off into the distance and becoming unfocused.

"Probably not for years." Sam said with a vague shrug. There was something indescribable that clung to his words, dripping off of them like sticky tar.

Castiel didn't know whether he should press the subject or not. But he could feel something stirring between them, an emotion that may have been buried, either consciously or subconsciously, and was only now beginning to rear its head again. He didn't want to press the subject. But he didn't want to let it go either.

"I stopped doing most things after Jess died." Sam admitted in the end. He sighed, and shifted on the blanket.

"Your wife?" Cas questioned pointlessly. Sam nodded nonetheless. "I'm sorry." He added, feeling stupid for doing so. He felt like all his words were useless.

"Don't be." Sam turned towards him then, a strange intensity glinting in his eyes. It wasn't necessarily grief, but Cas couldn't really pinpoint what exactly it was either. "I've barely talked about this with anyone."

"What happened?" Castiel asked, partially out of curiosity, and partially because he felt some obligation to do so. Sam seemed to be urging him to prompt further, to let him open up.

"It was really sudden." Sam said, his voice seeming far away. "I think we'd only be married for a few weeks at most."

"You'd only just moved into the house?" Castiel guessed, an image of unopened boxes and unfurnished rooms coming to mind.

"Yeah. We choose it because it had a few spare rooms for the kids we thought we were going to have." Sam explained with a faint smile that faded as quickly as it had appeared. "I kind of regret it now though.”

“You regret the relationship?” Castiel tilted his head.

“God no, of course not.” Sam exclaimed, his face morphing into one of mortification. “I meant I regret getting a big house. It made everything worse after she was gone. It was just so empty.” Sam explained in a pained voice, dragging out his words for a fraction of a second too long.

"What was she like?" Castiel asked softly. Sam blinked, his gaze snapping on to him almost frightfully fast.

"She was amazing" Sam said wistfully. "I mean, she was amazing all the time. She was so nice, and kind, and generous. And she had this smile that would light up an entire room. But she was also so smart; I don't mean just book smart either. She was just intelligent. Able to understand things and people. And she cared. About everything. She brought so much joy to everything she did and she was just amazing. I don't know what other word could possibly describe her."

"She sounds nice." Castiel commented, smiling slightly. Sam nodded slowly. "What happened?" He pressed cautiously.

"I don't really know." Sam said, his voice trailing off. "I mean, I know what happened, but I don't understand why."

He paused with a sigh, dropping his gaze back down onto his lap where he started to wring his hands together. They looked almost white with the cold air that engulfed them. Castiel wanted to reach out and hold them, but he dare not break the tentative moment that had fallen over Sam.

"I came home and she had baked cookies." Sam said, quite suddenly. Castiel blinked. "She always did that. She was thoughtful like that." He added. "But when I called out for her, she didn't answered. I assumed she'd gone to the shops or something. But then I walked upstairs, and she was in the room, what was our room...just laying there."

"What had happened?" Castiel asked, shifting ever so closer to Sam. Sam flinched minutely, in a barely noticeable manner.

"There was blood everywhere. She'd been stabbed, multiple times." Sam recalled, his voice blank. "It was a friend of mine that had done it. His name was Brady. He'd gone on a rampage or something, I'm not sure. He drove off a bridge a few hours later, but no one knows if it was suicide or not." Sam explained, his voice strangely breathless. "I just don't know why...I just... he was my friend, you know? And to lose him would have been bad enough, to lose Jess alone would have been catastrophic, but to lose them both, and for one of them to have killed the other?"

Sam's voice snapped then, all the buried emotion exploding to the surface. His face crumpled and he suddenly looked a decade younger. His bottom lip quivered, and he rubbed bitterly at his eyes, trying to duck his head away from Cas' prying gaze. Castiel stared at him helplessly, wishing that there was something he could do.

"How did you cope?" He queried, desperate to keep Sam talking, if only to prevent the unnerving silence, broken only by the subtle sniffles that Sam was attempting to pretend weren’t coming from him.

"I didn't." Sam muttered, his lips curling downwards. "Dean helped. Bobby made sure that I at least got back to working, and doing what I needed to do. I guess the rest just became routine."

"You never fully unpacked all your stuff?" He pointed out, wondering how bad Sam had been for that task to have been neglected for years. Sam laughed without humour.

"No. I couldn't. I kept finding her stuff." He croaked, his voice cracking in a way that made Cas almost wince in sympathy.

"I'm sorry that I brought it up." He apologized, unsure of what else he could say, and feeling a pang of guilt about his own uselessness.

"You deserved to know." Sam stated firmly, the emotion draining from his voice once more. "I'm just sorry I put it all on you at once."

"You shouldn't be expected to keep all that to yourself." He suggested in a reasonable voice. Sam shrugged.

"I was serious when I said I was proud of you earlier." Sam said, changing the course of the conversation.

"I know." Castiel responded carefully. Sam smiled sadly, his eyes still focused on his lap.

“Do you want to eat the rest of the lunch?" Sam asked, already moving towards the basket and removing whatever food he could find. Mostly a few sandwiches, and some sweet and undoubtedly calorie laden food.

Castiel took the sandwich that Sam offered him, without saying anything more on the subject. It was as though every trace of negative emotion had evaporated from Sam's features, although there was still an undercurrent of grief that rested beneath them, but its presence was more comfortable than one would have expected. However, it was still raw. Still painful.

A cool breeze cut through both of them, and they shivered, reminded simultaneously of why no one had picnics in the middle of winter. The collar around his neck seemed frozen to the touch, even though the skin beneath it was clammy from the weight of it. He wanted to rip it off, but he couldn't take the risk. Not when they weren't completely and utterly safe.

He turned towards Sam, who hadn't even made an attempt to eat his food. He was staring far off into the distance, beyond even the world of physical reality, and instead was utterly absorbed by his thoughts. Castiel frowned, and very slowly slivered closer to Sam, until they were reclining against the fence in each other’s arms.

Sam relaxed slightly, looking down at him with softened features and placing another gentle kiss on his forehead. It wasn't an unusual position for them; it had become customary for them to adopt this position when they sat together on the couch, so it seemed only natural to do it now. It had always seemed natural.

"I love you." Sam whispered, his voice slightly shaky but nonetheless sincere. Castiel felt a flash of joy in his chest, the warmth of which seemed to seep throughout the rest of his body, warming him with a comfortable, white light.

"I love you too, Sam." He responded earnestly.

The journey back to the car was a lot easier. They both slipped on the way down from the mound, but it didn't trigger the same reaction. Nevertheless, leaving the cover of the forest was unsettling, and he couldn't help that underlining sense of fear that traced his every movement.

The atmosphere was more sombre, but at the same time it felt lighter. Like something had been shared that had been lingering in the background for a long time. Castiel found himself filled with a strange sense of accomplishment, although on reflection he did not think he had done much. On the other hand Sam had clearly opened up about a lot, and it had taken a toll on both of them. Although he was ultimately pleased with what had happened.

They couldn't have stayed for much longer. Even huddled together their body temperatures had plummeted with the dismal weather. He might have some semblance of proper clothes now, but even that was not enough to fully protect him from the cold. He wondered idly how he had ever hoped to survive in the wild with a single pair of trousers.

He wondered what Gabriel would have done when faced with the same choice. Maybe Gabriel had found a way to survive despite the cold. Or perhaps he had simply succumbed to the elements. On reflection it seemed infinitely more likely that the latter had happened. Still, it was better to be dead than to be a slave. That was what they had said to each other before making the attempt to escape.

"I should have left the heating on." Sam commented as they slid back into the car. It wasn't much of a relief. The metal of the doors were almost frozen over, and he felt any semblance of warmth drain out of him from its touch. Sam rubbed his hands together in front of him before starting the ignition.

They didn't say much on the drive back. There didn't seem much that needed to be said after their discussion. Even if they had been in need of idle chit-chat, there was no way they could have done so. Even with such horrendous weather conditions, the roads were still filled with traffic. There were too many eyes to see them should they try to act like equals.

Castiel wasn't overly bothered at the moment. He had achieved something. Something which had been holding him prisoner for weeks. Something which he never should have been scared off. It was a wondrous feeling. He felt as though the world had been opened up to him in a way that it never could have been before.

He wanted to do more. He wanted to experience more. He wanted to overcome more.

They arrived back at the house after quite a while stuck in traffic. It certainly took longer to get home than it had to get there, but the car had warmed up on the journey so it hadn't been too bad. Either way, he quite liked being able to think and organize his thoughts in silence. It was relaxing in a way.

It didn't stop him ripping the collar off from around his neck the second the door had closed behind him. Or at least, it didn't stop him from attempting to rip the collar off his neck. It was buckled in such a way as to make it almost impossible for the wearer to remove it, and his fingers were still slightly numb and uncooperative. Thankfully Sam noticed his struggle and did it for him in one swift movement.

"Are you feeling okay?" Sam questioned, rubbing his hands gently across Cas' slightly sore neck. The collar had been as loose as they could get it, but even that did not stop it leaving some faint marks. It wasn't designed to be comfortable.

"I feel great." He responded with a wide smile. Sam blinked, but then grinned, his whole face beaming with joy. Castiel took the moment to reach upwards and plant a kiss on Sam's lips. He had to step on his tip-toes to be able to reach. Sam smiled around the kiss and pulled him tighter, wrapping his arms around the small of his back.

"Can we do something else?" Castiel asked, leaning in closer and trying to deepen the kiss. But Sam pulled away to look down at him questioningly.

"What did you have in mind?" Sam asked, tilting his head slightly. The dimples from his smile were still visible on his face. He looked good like this. He looked good when he was happy.

"I want to try and be intimate." He suggested. They had tried only a couple of times, once being on the first night that they had ever kissed. Neither had gone particularly well. Castiel had always been too scared, too panicky to fully commit to it. But he was on a high now. He felt like he could do it.

But Sam was frowning at him, looking uneasy at the prospect. Castiel pulled away slightly, watching with a strange sense of disconnection as Sam's frown deepened, lines of concern burrowing across his forehead.

"Don't you think you're rushing things?" He suggested, sounding mostly unsure and concerned, yet Castiel couldn’t help bristle as though the tone had been accusatory.

"I think I can do it." Castiel retorted, in a slightly indignant voice. He didn't mean to sound indignant, but at the same time he felt mildly frustrated by Sam’s response. He knew his ability, his desires, his wants better than Sam did.

Sam didn’t look convinced.

“Let’s wait until night and see.” Sam suggested, taking a step back and breaking the physical contact. Castiel glared at him, but couldn’t do so for long without having to look elsewhere. He could feel his hands balling into fists, and his lips were pressed tightly together until they were nothing more than a white line.

“I need to do some work on my laptop for Monday.” Sam said, effectively excusing himself from the conversation. Castiel didn’t say anything in response.

“I still would very much like to have sex.” Castiel said, kneeling on the bed and glancing up at Sam as he walked into the room, toothbrush still held in his mouth. His brows furrowed, his gaze sweeping over Castiel, and seemingly unsatisfied with whatever he found.

"Give me a sec." Sam garbled from around his toothbrush, before disappearing back off into the bathroom. Castiel sat impatiently on the bed, straining his ears to hear the creak of the floorboards as Sam returned, seeming keen on taking his time.

Sam walked in a little stiffly, before taking a seat next to Cas on the bed. Castiel glowered under Sam's penetrating stare, as he surveyed him cautiously.

"Do you actually want to do this?" Sam pressed, his brows lowered, as a frown etched along his face.

"Very much so." Castiel responded eagerly, already shuffling closer to Sam. He had always wanted to have sex, he'd just been held back. In the same way he had always wanted to go outside, but he'd been held back. He just needed to shake of the inhibitions and the fear and take a leap of faith. He felt like he had the power to do so.

"I don't think you've thought it through properly." Sam admitted, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck as he did so.

"I don't know what more you want me to say." Castiel muttered. "I want this. I've always wanted it, which you've known. It's only now that I feel ready." He explained, dragging out his tone as though it would help the message sink in more. Sam chewed on his lip nervously.

"If we do this I need to know that you're going to stop me if it gets too much." Sam said, wringing his hands nervously in front of him.

"I'll tell you if it gets too much." He responded. "You can trust me to do that." He added, sensing Sam's lingering uncertainty.

"You promise?" Sam asked, watching him with wide eyes.

"Of course." Castiel agreed, a surge of victory rushing through him as he realized that Sam was finally coming round to his point of view.

Sam sighed heavily, but stripped himself of his limited layers. Castiel blinked, surprised at the ease in which Sam became naked for him. They didn't usually sleep completely naked, mainly because it was too cold to do so. His eyes explored the sight, feeling himself frozen in the moment before realizing that Sam was scanning his reaction carefully.

He removed his own layers slower than Sam had done, but he didn't hesitate. Sam glanced away modestly, which struck Cas as an unusual thing to do given the circumstances. He didn't know how he was supposed to feel about that.

"Are you ready?" Sam asked, leaning over towards the bottom drawer and removing a packet of condoms and the jar of lube. Castiel watched his movements carefully, wetting his lips with his tongue.

"Yes." He breathed, scooting further along the bed as Sam came closer. Sam knelt over his lap, gently nudging his legs wider as he settled into the space. Castiel watched him, feeling a shiver of excitement course down his spine. Sam leaned in and kissed him, his tongue pushing forcefully inside. Cas moaned into the kiss.

Sam pulled away then, much to Cas' disappointment. Instead he dribbled some lube onto his fingers, before gently lining them up with Cas' hole. Castiel keened as Sam slowly slid in the first finger up to the knuckle. Sam removed it partway, and then pressed in deep, gently tugging the finger around. Castiel could feel the way he stretched to accommodate the finger.

The familiar panic started to stir, but he pushed it down. He could do this. He knew he could. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on the pleasure, instead of his thundering heart rate, which was pounding for all the wrong reasons.

He gasped as his skin started to tingle with arousal, a slick hand wrapping around the length of his cock. Sam's thumb brushed over the head, igniting a spark of pleasure that made his thighs quiver. He groaned desperately.

Then Sam added a second finger, alongside a generous amount of lube. He moaned, biting down on his bottom lip. The panic flared with the intrusion, managing to infiltrate most of his breathing. He gasped around it, trying to ignore the way it made him slightly light-headed. Adrenaline started to course along his bloodstream as all his senses heightened. He felt like he was choking.

If he ignored it he could carry on. It didn’t matter what he felt, he could still get through it. If he got through it then he’d feel better. The fear was just another obstacle to face. He just needed to keep reminding himself of that.

Sam was still stroking up his length, paying particularly attention to his overly-sensitive head. At the same time he worked in with a third finger, and brushed against his prostrate, giving him a spark of body-quivering pleasure. It felt overwhelming. Too strong a sensation to be fully enjoyable, especially alongside the fear. But it was certainly bearable.

And then everything stopped.

He opened his eyes, watching with confusion as Sam placed the lube and the unused condoms back onto the side cabinet. Sam wasn’t looking at him.

“Why did you stop?” He asked in a gasp. Sam glanced at him, his gaze harder than Cas had ever seen it before.

“You said that you’d tell me if we needed to stop.” Sam said in a low, sharp-edged voice. Castiel blinked at him.

“I was doing fine.” He argued, clambering into an upright position.

“No you weren’t.” Sam accused, his voice welcoming no arguments. “Don’t lie about this.” He added in a growl that cut straight through Cas and left him almost paralysed to the spot.

“I could have managed it.” He mumbled quietly, feeling infinitely small under Sam’s unimpressed glare.

“Managing it isn’t the point. You didn’t want to do it. You just wanted to prove that you could.” Sam all-but hissed. Castiel stared at him with wide eyes, unfamiliar with the bitterness that had seeped into Sam’s tone. “Don’t you dare try to pressure me into doing something you know you don’t want. Don’t you dare put that on me.” Sam growled, tugging up his boxers as he did so.

“I-I did want to do it…” He whispered, suddenly unsure of himself. He was frozen to the spot, unable to do anything whilst Sam’s anger crashed over him in waves.

“I’m more than prepared to wait until you’re ready. I’m more than prepared to never have sex, if that’s what you need. But I’m not prepared to have sex just so you can have some sort of an achievement buzz before you’re ready. That’s not what sex is about, and it’s not fair that you’re tricking me into doing something you don’t want. It’s not fair Cas.” Sam raged, his voice tense but somehow containing an element of control as he managed to keep his volume level. It scared Cas more than shouting would have.

Sam stared at him, daring him to speak, but his mouth had gone dry. The eye contact lasted a few horrendous, drawn out seconds, before Sam tore it away with a look akin to disgust. Castiel shrunk back, wishing somehow to become invisible. The suffocating stillness only lasted a moment before Sam stormed away. He slammed the door behind him, the sound reverberating in the silence, and muffling the sounds of Sam’s hurried footsteps as he rushed downstairs.

Castiel was left alone.

Sam woke with a groan, the stiff joints of his back clicking sharply as he stretched out on the couch. He felt like death. His head was pounding in time to his heartbeat. He ran his rough tongue over saliva-congealed lips, feeling a tug of nausea in his gut. His throat was painfully raw. He swallowed heavily, the phantom taste of blood invading his mouth. He flopped back onto the couch with another low groan, sniffling pathetically, and throwing an arm over his over-sensitive eyes to protect them from the light.

“You’re ill.” He jumped, the voice seeming to come out of nowhere before a hand was pressed gently to his sweat-speckled forehead. “I’ll get you some water.” Castiel decided, hurriedly diving back into the kitchen. Sam opened his eyes groggily, glancing after the retreating form with a frown.

Castiel moved quietly. It wasn’t quite stealthy, but it was a soft fluid movement, that easily faded to the back of one’s consciousness. Enough to make him pass by relatively unnoticed, or at least unobtrusively. Even now he hurried back with barely a sound beyond the vague groan of the floorboards. Sam watched him, his gaze lavishing up the sight.

“Do you want me to make you some food?” Castiel asked, pressing the glass up to Sam’s lips. The water was slightly warm, and had an almost murky aftertaste. Castiel mustn’t have left the tap running long enough to cool the water down, but still Sam was thankful for the liquid that coursed down his sore throat.

“No. No food, thanks.” Sam answered after a moment, the words coming out mildly slurred as his overly-heavy tongue caught on the dry roof of his mouth. The idea of food made his stomach shrivel in disgust. Castiel shifted uneasily above him, still holding the glass within Sam’s reach.

“Should I call Dean?” Castiel asked, a sparkle of worry in his eyes. Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, struggling to ignore the throbbing of his head in order to be able to focus. He crawled into a somewhat upright position, the cover- which he had not put on himself- falling down to his hips as he did so.

“No Cas. It’s just a cold.” He dismissed, trying to shake off the eyes that bore into him. Castiel continued to frown, his eyes flickering around the room uneasily, as though searching for some prompt for what to do. “Seriously, it’s nothing to worry about.” Sam added, stressing his words carefully.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Sam retorted sharply, watching with a pang of guilt as Cas flinched and took a step back. He sighed, his shoulders drooping.

“I’m sorry about yesterday.” He said, gazing up at Castiel. Cas hunched his shoulders, his wings twitching behind his back.

“I don’t understand why you got so angry.” Castiel admitted quietly, still hovering by his side as opposed to sitting down.

“I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did.” Sam responded slowly, sitting up properly and ignoring the slight itch at the back of his throat. Castiel furrowed his brows but did not look at him.

“But you did react that way. I don’t understand why.” Castiel reiterated, his voice absent of anger, but instead tinged with an acute desperation.

“I told you Cas; you weren’t enjoying it, and you were pressuring me to do it anyway. I didn’t want to be put in that position, and I didn’t want to feel like I was putting you under pressure to have sex for my sake.” Sam explained, careful to keep his voice controlled and detached. Castiel looked up at him.

“You weren’t putting me under pressure.”

“Did you enjoy it?” Sam questioned, snapping his eyes onto Cas’. Castiel blinked, opened his mouth, and then closed it again. He shook his head. “Then you didn’t truly want it. It doesn’t matter where the pressure you felt originated from, it just matters that it wasn’t proper consent.”

“If I had enjoyed it would you still be annoyed?”

“If you had enjoyed it I wouldn’t have stopped.” Sam said. Castiel looked at the ground, his gaze troubled. Sam coughed lightly, causing Castiel’s focus to snap onto him.

“I would offer to cuddle- if you wanted to- but you’d probably just get my cold.” Sam said with a wry smile. Castiel frowned, his hands clenching unknowingly.

“Cas, I’m not annoyed anymore. Arguments happen; let’s just move on?” Sam suggested, assuming that was the source of Cas’ distress. Castiel barely seemed to pay attention to what he had just said.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Castiel asked again, his face taut with anxiety. Sam tilted his head, glancing at Castiel with curiosity.

“You’ve never seen anyone with a cold before?” He asked. Cas’ mouth twitched downwards, his nose scrunching up slightly.

“I’ve seen lots of people with colds.” Castiel responded blankly. “They all got incinerated.”

“Oh…” Sam responded stupidly. He swallowed heavily, trying to assess Castiel’s current state of being. “Well colds here are very common. Almost no-one ever dies from them unless they have some other complications, which I don’t. And plus, no one is going to incinerate me, so it’s fine.” He explained, trying to adopt a reassuring tone.

Castiel looked up, regarding the words for a few seconds, before he sighed. “I’m over-reacting.” Castiel summarised, quirking the corner of his lip upwards. Sam snorted softly, and tilted his head in agreement.

“Come on, sit down and watch some films. It’s Sunday and I want to relax. This cold won’t be enough to get me off work tomorrow.” He pointed out, ignoring the pit of dread at the thought. No doubt he would have a running nose tomorrow, and a sickly nasally voice to grind the nerves of all around him.

“Hey Cas, can you help me get this through the door?” Sam called, struggling to get past the large Christmas tree he may have accidentally lodged in the doorway.

Castiel tentatively stepped into sight of the door and paused, tilting his head at the spectacle. He scrunched his nose, surveying the length of the tree and what little he could see of Sam from behind its thick branches. He furrowed his brows and took a step forward, before gripping the top of the tree and starting to pull.

It gradually slipped past the doorway with only a few leaves crumbling to the floor. Sam shut the door behind him, momentarily letting Castiel take the full weight of the tree. Castiel was still staring at him with something akin to bewilderment, the corners of his lips twitching as though he couldn’t quite figure out what to say.

“What’s wrong, never seen a Christmas tree before?” Sam asked jokingly, hefting up the other end of the tree and helping Cas to manoeuvre it into the living room, where he had thankfully with some foresight already set up the base.

“As a matter of fact, no I haven’t.” Castiel responded monotonously, glancing at Sam as though trying to figure out how Sam could have possibly forgotten that.

“Well, you know what they are at least, right?” He asked a little timidly this time. He knew that Cas had to have some awareness of what they were; after all they’d been watching a lot of Christmassy television and films lately, the majority of which featured a Christmas tree, alongside traditional Christmas activities. Castiel had never expressed confusion about such things before.

“Yes.” Castiel said, taking a step back as the tree swung upwards, before sliding in opposite Sam to help him slot it into the base.

“Then why do you seem confused?” Sam questioned, peering around from behind the branches as the tree fell into place. Castiel scraped his teeth against his bottom lip, before moving away from the now upright Christmas tree.

“I had not thought you were one to celebrate Christmas.” Castiel responded carefully. Sam blinked, tilting his head.

“What gave you that impression?” he asked. Castiel shrugged, his wings, now almost fully healed- or at least as healed as it ever would be- shaking as he did so, the movement almost reminiscent of a bird fluffing out its wings.

“Both Dean and Ellen heavily implied it.” He said, his voice almost dismissive. Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair, but not having the effort to fully explain why they were probably correct there. He hadn’t exactly celebrated Christmas in the last few years, primarily because he had never really had reason to do so. His family didn’t celebrate it, and he hadn’t managed to keep in touch with most of his college friends.

“I asked whether Dean could come round on Christmas Eve and Christmas day. Is that okay with you?” He asked, changing the course of the conversation. Castiel nodded, seemingly indifferent. His relationship with Dean was more or less good now, although there was still an underlining degree of awkwardness surrounding their interactions.

“Do you want to help me decorate the tree?” He asked with a coy smile, leaning closer to Cas, and slotting comfortably into place behind him. He rested his head on Cas’ shoulder, enjoying the warmth beneath him.

“I’d love to.” Castiel replied in a breathy voice, tilting his head up towards Sam. Sam teasingly darted away, ignoring Cas’ groan of complaint.

“I’ll have to bring down the box.” He said, excusing himself as he did so. He rushed up the stairs, heading for the spare room where most of his things were stored anyway. He surveyed the unpacked boxes, now slightly worn at the edges, showing the years of neglect. He frowned, carefully picking his way through them until he found the one labelled ‘Christmas’. Jess had insisted on bringing it with them.

“I think I’m going to start unpacking those boxes.” He said, as though it was something offhand and not overly important. Regardless Castiel snapped his gaze up to him with surprise, his expression flickering between relief and worry, before settling on a mask of polite detachment. Sam had noticed that Castiel often fell back on that mask whenever he was unsure of how to react.

“Come on, grab some ornaments.” He said, placing the box he was carrying on the floor with a thump, the worn top flopping open to reveal the mess of decorations inside, all tangled up in a cobweb of lights.

Castiel knelt beside the box, a flash of curiosity lighting up his face as Sam upturned it, spilling out all the decorations onto the floor. An angel had tumbled to the side, and was now peering up at them with white unseeing eyes, the eternal smile plastered onto its face. Its wings were stiff against its back, but fluttered ever so slightly under the gentle tremors as they shifted their weight, a few tiny feathers clumping onto the carpet.

“This goes at the top.” Castiel said with a trace of uncertainty, his inflection almost rising into a question as he picked up the lone angel. Sam smiled gently and nodded, unable to pull his eyes away from the ornament. Castiel cupped it carefully in his hands, staring at the crudely glued wings, his blue eyes seeming to fill with a fog of impenetrable emotion.

“Why?” He asked, turning his sharp gaze onto Sam, his voice light with wonder, but his face somewhat downcast into stern features, like the expression had been carved from marble into something unnatural that was merely a copy of the original.

“I don’t know. It’s tradition.” Sam responded gently, a prickle of unease crawling down his spine. He felt like he was trampling on something fragile.

“I know a lot about Christianity. But I know very little of other religions, apart from a slight awareness of their existence.” Castiel mused, placing the angel gently on the edge of the couch and instead turning his attention to the rest of the ornaments. His fingers parted the mess of lights and discovered a miniature angel, dangling from a loop of cloth. It lacked the same detail, absent of all features apart from the mere flat outline of a body and face, and the white wings that encompassed most of the pitiful figure.

“Jimmy is a Catholic. A pretty devout one too.” Sam pointed out, glancing at Castiel warily. “I suppose it raises an interesting question about how memory is stored.” Sam said softly. Castiel hummed thoughtfully in reply.

“It’s confusing. Abstract concepts are difficult to place within any understandable context. With religion I feel like I know a lot, and one piece of knowledge triggers another to the surface, but it is like I’m missing something deeper. Like I only have pieces of the picture, rather than the full image.”

“Would you consider yourself Catholic?” Sam asked, leaning back onto his hunches to properly survey Castiel. Castiel frowned, placing the small angel back onto the cluttered pile of decorations.

“I was not made by God.” Castiel said simply.

“Perhaps none of us were.”

“How do you decorate a Christmas tree?” Castiel asked, his voice considerably lighter, absent of his previously sombre tone.

"With music." Sam said, risking a smirk. Castiel looked at him, tilting his head with a confused smile of his own. "It's no fun without music." He defended with a shrug.

"I like your music." Castiel agreed thoughtfully. Sam tried to ignore the warm feeling that ignited in his heart, making him feel all warm and giddy, like a teenager on his first date.

"Good! But I'm probably going to put on Christmas music." He decided, his face brightening up like it used to do when he'd been young enough to take joy in such trivial activities. Usually when they'd been dropped off at Bobby's for the holidays, as opposed to some mangy motel in the middle of nowhere.

"You always need some Dean Martin on Christmas." He grinned, crawling lazily towards his CD player, slotting in the desk and letting the ambient and jolly music fill the room with its light, bouncy tone.

"I have not heard this one before." Castiel noted, tilting his head towards the CD player, a look of focus drifting across his face. Sam laughed, and lunged towards his partner, stealing away the intense look with an even more intense kiss.

The clutter of decorations crunched beneath them as they rolled with each other, both regretting it immediately as the ornaments dug relentlessly into their sides. Sam broke away with another low giggle, dragging the both of them onto a clearer section of the carpet.

"I don't think this is helping decorate the tree." Castiel teased, the tip of his tongue resting on his lips which curled into a smile. Sam shoved him playfully, managing to evoke a startled gasp of laughter from the clone.

"Come on then, let's decorate!" Sam exclaimed, scrambling into the pile of decorations with a bright grin, his hands already searching for that spray of fake snow which he knew had to be here somewhere.

He found it eventually, and with an ever-widening grin he started to shake it almost manically. Castiel watched him with wide, sparkling eyes from where he was lying slightly dazed on the floor. The can rattled loudly, almost blocking out the pleasant undertones of music that drifted over them.

"Fake snow." He explained, demonstrating a quick burst of the white stuff, which coated the tree with moist foam, which didn't really look like snow, but was good enough. Then his grin turned devious, and he turned on the still reclining Castiel. "Still just going to sit there?"

He laughed, spraying a gust of fake snow over the startled form, which scrambled backwards with a muffled curse. Castiel glared at him, but Sam wiped the expression off his face with another spray of the can. Castiel made a garbled sound of disgust, his lips twitching despite himself as the foam dribbled down his chin.

Castiel wiped a hand down his face, collecting a handful of fake snow. He glanced at the stuff curiously, before looking up at Sam with a devilish smirk.

Sam squealed, ducking out of the way as Castiel leaped at him with a surprising agility, slapping a handful of fake snow into his face. Flecks of foam splashed off his skin, and shot into his hair and onto the floor with a squelch. Sam raised the can in retort and sprayed another whiff onto Cas' currently exposed chest.

"I still don't think this is how you decorate a tree." Castiel said, an amused glint in his eyes.

"This is exactly how you decorate a tree." Sam laughed, tossing his head back, throwing a few more flecks of foam from his hair. As if to prove the point he pointed the can towards the tree and quickly coated it with a continuous burst of fake snow. "There, see. Perfect."

Castiel hummed with doubt, his eyes still fixed on the can. A moment later he lashed out with the ferocity of a snake, and grabbed the can in a tight grip. Sam yelped in surprise, trying to yank it back out of his reach, but too late to avoid his upper torso being covered with the white stuff.

"Oh, that's it!" He exclaimed, pulling them both onto the floor. Castiel flopped heavily down on top of him, ducking out of his reach as he tried to spray another burst into Cas' own mop of hair. They wrestled together for a moment, until they both grabbed the nozzle of the can and started to spray it, randomly trying to direct it at each other.

A tsunami of fake snow exploded into the air and rained down upon them, coating them with the sticky foam. They laughed, a deep bubbly giggle rising from their chest and building into a crescendo as the can spluttered, a few more flecks of fake snow coming out, before it started to whistle with empty air.

They were coated with the stuff; not a single piece of them lay uncovered, whether it be Sam's own locks of hair, or the expanse of Cas' black wings. They laughed again, throwing the can to the side as they lazily grabbed clumps of the stuff and threw it at one another, in an impromptu imitation of a snowball fight.

After a moment the crescendo of laughter descended into a few bursts of giggles, until they delved into a pleasant silence. The soft tones of Dean Martin drifted into the background, singing "let it snow, let it snow." They smiled, still holding each other. Their gazes met, a blush trailing across Sam's cheeks as a softness descended over Cas’ expression, a look of utter adoration blooming in his eyes.

"I don't think we did a good job at decorating the tree." Castiel said softly, igniting another explosion of body-whacking laughter. Sam's sides had never hurt so much.

"I think we decorated one another." Sam added, cupping some of the fake snow over Cas' hair. Castiel batted his hand away lazily, a low laugh echoing from his throat.

"More fun this way." Castiel decided. Sam grinned, wholeheartedly agreeing.

"I think we might need to clear up." He pointed out, glancing over the shamble of a room they had left in their wake. Castiel groaned, tilting his head onto the floor with a muffled sound of protest. Sam nudged his shoulder.

"We can have a shower."

"Don't want a shower." Castiel mumbled petulantly.

"We could have a shower together." Sam suggested shyly. Castiel glanced up at him, his eyes scanning Sam's face. "If you want."

Castiel smiled, and answered Sam with an eager kiss, practically rolling on top of him and straddling him.

"Easy cowboy!" He laughed, twisting them back round so that they were both sitting. Castiel didn't seem to notice the change, and just continued to lean towards Sam, his skin positively radiant besides Sam's. Sam exposed his neck, letting Cas trail a path of sloppy kisses, occasionally brushing against the skin with his teeth to send a shiver of anticipation and want through Sam.

"Come on." Sam urged, feeling his lower abdomen pool with a soothing heat, that gradually started to encompass the rest of his body, and leave him delightfully giddy as it threatened to rise into a searing burn beneath his skin. He grabbed Cas' hand and lead him upstairs, ignoring the whine of protest as Castiel hurried to restore the contact.

They half-walked half-jogged up the stairs, too busy holding onto one another to move as fast as they both wanted. Sam kept pulling Cas upwards, even as Cas kept trying to push him against the wall and devour him with a platter of kisses and fumbling hands.

Everything blurred at the edges, becoming obsolete as their focus narrowed to each other. Sam's skin was burning under Cas' touch. He was already half-hard, giving aborted thrusts every time Cas managed to get some leverage and brush against his crotch. His mouth watered, his senses filled with nothing but Cas; the soft supple skin that moulded under his palm perfectly, the slight musky scent that clung to the fake snow, and beneath it the faint whiff of aftershave which Sam recognized as his own, yet somehow was a million times more enchanting now that it belonged to Cas.

Castiel didn't particularly smell of anything...his scent was just a presence. There, but strangely ineffable, fading to the back of Sam's awareness. It was just the smell of another person, nothing different and nothing special, yet somehow reassuring with the comfort its presence provided, always there but never noticed.

His skin tasted of salt. Not sweaty, just a sharp tang that could best be described as salty. It was neither pleasant nor unpleasant, but once more was just there, and once more only just noticed.

His mouth however was metallic; not like blood, but with an element of freshness, and something that betrayed the strength of the life in Cas' body. It was sweet, but not sugar-sweet. It was crisp, yet almost rusty. A mouth full of juxtapositions, that were simultaneously confusing and enchanting. Something that needed to be explored; needed to be tasted. Needed to be experienced.

He lowered his hands to Cas' waist, essentially lifting the smaller man into the bathroom. Castiel stumbled slightly, but moved back beside Sam, running his mouth along the length of his collarbone. Sam moaned, thrusting into the air in need for friction.

"Wait-" He mumbled around a kiss, gently pushing Cas back as he stripped out of his shirt. Castiel's eyes lighted on his exposed torso, and he slipped back into place, fitting perfectly into the counters of Sam's body.

Sam struggled to pull his hands away from Cas, his palms burning with the need to reach out and touch his partner. Castiel moaned at the loss of contact, digging his own hands into Sam's sides, a trail of nails running down his spine. He gasped, a shiver coursing through his muscles. Castiel trailed his mouth up to Sam's nipple, running a tentative tongue over the tip of it.

Sam bit his lips, working with shaking hands to unbuckle his belt. It clicked after too long of a moment, and he ripped his trousers off, struggling to keep his balance as Cas refused to stop exploring his nipple with his tongue. His breath hitched as Cas slipped it into his mouth, lapping at it gently with his tongue whilst he started to suck. A throb of arousal pulsed in his cock, and he took no time in tearing off his boxes to free his fully hard cock.

It curled towards his stomach, and he leaned into Cas, searching out the contact as his hips gave stuttering thrusts. Castiel hummed around his nipple, the vibration sending a spark of electricity through his body. He growled, positively feral as his hands grasped Cas' hips, roughly unbuttoning his trousers and probably ripping the zipper as he pulled the trousers down Cas' legs, grabbing the waistband of his boxes and pulling them down at the same time.

Castiel stumbled, moving away from a fraction of a second to scramble out of his clothes, before pushing back against Sam and clasping his mouth onto Sam's other nipple with a renewed eagerness. He carefully scrapped his teeth along the ridge, causing Sam to throw his head back with a shaky exhale.

"Shower. Now." He ordered, manhandling Castiel towards the shower which seemed miles away, but was really only a few feet. He lifted Cas over the tub, and pushed him up against the wall of the shower, his wings splaying out behind him. Sam leaned in, grabbing Cas' lips in his own.

He broke the contact only for the few seconds it took to reach over to the shower and turn the taps, a sprinkle of cold water drizzling over them both. It felt like it sizzled on their skin, embraced as they were in their world of heat and thriving bodies.

Castiel twisted beneath him, the edges of his wings fluttering slightly as he did so. Sam took a step closer, thrusting against him and humming with the thrill of the friction that ignited his cock, which still yearned for more. His hands trailed across Cas' hips, his mouth clasped against Castiel's jaw line where he expertly circled his tongue, occasionally sucking, and scraping against it with his teeth.

Castiel whined, low and desperate as he rocked back against Sam. Sam's lips twitched, curling at the corners as a low groan bubbled in his throat, pushing against his partner and holding him firm against the wall. His hands trailed upwards, the tip of his fingers brushing against Cas' nipples, moaning with delight as Cas shuddered beneath him.

His wings flopped back against the wall as his body shuddered. Sam turned his attention to them, the black feathers that seemed to be gleaming delightfully in the spray of the shower. Carefully, he trailed his hands towards the wings, caressing the scapulars which emerged from his back. Castiel’s moan shook through his body, and he thrust desperately against Sam, his breath coming out in husky stutters.

"Like that?" Sam breathed in a low voice, curling his fingers into the edges between each feather, gently massaging the slither of skin beneath. Castiel whined again, throwing his head back with a shaky sigh, his eyes flickering closed.

Sam trailed his hands along the upper ridge of Cas’ wings, watching with interest as Cas groaned beneath him, every single one of his muscle tensing and quivering under the strain. The feathers twitched, the primaries flexing out to the full length under his exploring fingers. He pulled back one hand, and trailed it lazily down Cas’ torso, raking his nails across the hard muscle as he did so.

He gripped the base of Cas’ cock loosely, watching with a smirk as Cas’ eyes flashed open with a needy whimper. He pulled up, along the shaft, his hand just brushing across the hot skin. He twisted his wrist, scraping his thumb across the head where a dribble of pre-cum spurted out. Trailing his finger through warm liquid, he trailed his hand agonizingly slowly back up to the base of Cas’ cock, before beginning to pump his wrist in a steady rhythm, making sure to catch the tip of the head with each twist of his wrist.

Castiel gasped, his hands clawing down Sam’s sides as his body tensed, falling still for a whole second, before he shuddered and he spilled out onto Sam’s palm, his body sagging back against the shower wall with a breathy sigh. He shivered as Sam continued to work him through his orgasm, momentarily bringing him to over-sensitivity, before the final spurt of cum dribbled onto Sam’s waiting fingers.

Sam’s own cock pulsed as he brought his fingers to his lips, his eyes meeting Cas’ with lightning intensity as his tongue lapped at the cum-stained hand. He made obscene sucking noises, wrapping his lips around his finger and slurping loudly, aware of Cas watching him with pupils blown wide.

Castiel moaned, moving towards Sam and capturing his mouth in a kiss, his own taste shared between them. Castiel’s tongue pushed deep into the crevice of his mouth, searching out each droplet of his own cum as Sam continued to work to swallow, ignoring Cas efforts from him to do otherwise.

Castiel pushed away, running his tongue over his chapped lips and staring at Sam with wonder. His cheeks were slightly pink, and his chest heaved with each quickened breath. Without warning Castiel dropped to his knees and grabbed Sam’s hips in his hands, licking teasingly at the head of his cock.

“Fuck.” Sam whispered, biting down on his lips as he thrust his hips, seeking the contact with Castiel’s willing mouth. Cas tentatively wrapped his lips around Sam’s cock, taking a moment to adjust to the impressive width, before he took Sam in his mouth fully.

Castiel bobbed back, keeping Sam’s cock in his mouth as he trailed his tongue around the head, before trailing it underneath his shaft as he pushed back to the base with a sloppy manoeuvre. Castiel’s teeth scrapped past as he pulled back down to the head, causing Sam to throw his head back with another muffled curse.

Castiel slowly started to drag his mouth forward, his slow pace quickly becoming maddening. Sam groaned, twisting his hands into Cas’ hair and pulling him back down onto his cock, giving him a moment to regain his breath after the initial surprised splutter, before pulling him back off, and then on again. Eventually Castiel got the message, and he bobbed his head at a quickened pace, his tongue exploring every inch of his cock as he sucked down on it.

“Cas, I’m going to come.” Sam warned, letting Cas pull back before it became too much, and he came with an agonising shout, thrusting his hips forward, leaning against the shower wall as his knees threatened to buckle.

Castiel regained himself first, having the sense to turn the shower off after a few minutes to clean off the sweat and cum, before helping to guide Sam out of the shower. Sam blinked, waiting for his brain to catch up with his cock, before he remembered to take charge.

He nuzzled against Cas’ shoulder, grabbing a towel to wrap around the smaller form, before retrieving one for himself. Castiel pushed back against him, his body almost completely limp as Sam dragged the both of them towards the bedroom. Castiel flopped down onto the bed, Sam following a fraction of a second later.

“Was that okay?” Sam asked, turning his head to look at Cas, who was pressed tight against his side. Castiel hummed contently, his eyes fluttering closed. Sam snorted, helping to bring the cover up over both of them. Castiel sighed, wrapping his arm over Sam’s torso as he did so. Sam tilted his head to look down at Cas with a smile, placing a gentle kiss on the top of his head.

“I love you.” He whispered. Castiel merely hummed in reply, nuzzling further against his chest, conveying the response as well as any words could.

Sam blinked his eyes open, his awareness being dragged away from the edge of sleep as he felt Castiel start to stir in his grip. He glanced down at Castiel, who seemed almost impossibly small wrapped up against his side. He smiled softly, his eyes crinkling at the edges as he stared down at his lover.

Cas' wing brushed against the underside of his arm, tickling the skin to ignite soft, pleasing tingles of warmth down his body. His other wing was tucked beneath his body, pressed against his back, with only the very tip splaying visibly against the bed between their bodies.

Castiel tilted his head, his wings flexing gently as he stretched, his eyes gradually flickering open. The blue depths were faded with sleep, but still managed to shine in beautiful contrast to his pale skin. He blinked, his gaze focusing on Sam's, his small smile brightening his face.

"Hey." Sam greeted quietly, trailing his fingers down Cas' side. Castiel sighed, leaning into his touch.

"How are you feeling?" Sam asked, his eyes raking over Cas' form for any sign of regret, or unease. Castiel shifted upwards, the covers shimmering down his naked body as he did so. He twisted his body until his face was hovering mere inches above Sam's.

"I feel amazing." Castiel responded with a grin, leaning his head down to brush over Sam's lips. He hummed, moving his arm to wrap around the back of Cas' head, pulling their mouths closer together.

"So was it all okay? Nothing that I need to do differently next time?" He questioned, breaking away from the kiss for a second. Castiel tilted his head, regarding him carefully.

"Are you worried that we went too fast?" Castiel asked, his brows lowered in contemplation.

"No!" Sam responded immediately. "It's just that I want to make sure that I didn't do anything that made you uncomfortable." He admitted, tangling his fingers through Cas' locks.

"I enjoyed it." Castiel replied after a second, still watching Sam with curiosity. "And you?"

"What?" Sam said, frowning with confusion.

"Did I do anything to make you uncomfortable?" Castiel elaborated, his expression unreadable.

"No...I, er, no you didn't." Sam stammered in reply, surprised at the question, and blushing slightly. "I loved it."

"Then stop worrying." Castiel responded, letting the smile drift back onto his face after a moment as he leaned down to give another kiss. Sam opened his mouth willingly, as he trailed his hands down Cas’ back to massage his scapulars. Castiel moaned, curving his back into the touch.

"You never told me your wings were an erogenous zone." Sam pointed out, in a slightly breathless voice. He was certain that he had run his hands through those wings before without getting the same reaction.

"They're not usually. Only if I'm aroused." Castiel explained, sucking at his collarbone, occasionally biting against it gently. Sam tilted his head, giving him better access.

Sam's breath hitched as Castiel rolled his hips against his. The covers were bunched around Cas' abdomen, before Sam pulled them back and gripped Cas’ ass as he guided their hips together. Castiel moaned, biting down against his skin harder than he had before.

Castiel arched his back as Sam scraped his nails down the curve between his wings. Sam thrust upwards, groaning as their cocks brushed against each other, the friction electrifying.

Cas' hips stuttered, and he bit his lips, throwing his head back as he came over Sam's stomach. Sam moaned, his tongue brushing over his lips as he watched the display, still rolling his hips up against Cas’ trembling form as he continued to cum. He could feel the warmth of Cas' cum against his abdomen, and dribbling onto his crotch, over his cock, and between his balls.

With a needy lust he grabbed his own cock and started to pump furiously, throwing his head back against the pillow as he watched Cas fall limp in his arms, his skin brushed over in a red tinge as he panted heavily against the crook of Sam's neck. Sam bit back a moan, brushing over the head of his cock, before he came himself.

He let the post-orgasmic bliss wash over him, almost lulling him to the edge of sleep, even as he felt the sticky cum pressed up between their bodies. Castiel was almost completely gone; his breathing was too heavy for him to be asleep, but all the energy had been depleted from his body.

It was only as the cum started to dry, and become itchy and crumbly between them did he force himself to move. Castiel groaned in protest as Sam rolled him off his abdomen. His eyes opened, glaring bitterly at Sam through the sleepy haze that clouded his gaze.

"Come on, we need to go clean up." Sam said, nudging Cas' shoulder, and laughing as Cas flopped down with a weary sign.

"Where should I put this?" Castiel asked, glancing at the contents of the box. It was filled with photos, but he did not think it belonged to Sam. The faces of strangers smiled up at him, none of which he could recognize from the few photos that Sam had hung up.

"What's in it?" Sam asked, brushing his hand over a speck of paint that had flicked over the top of his mouth.

"Pictures." He responded. Sam approached him, kneeling by the box so that he could glance in. His eyes flashed with recognition and he sighed.

"They belong to Jess. Keep them in the box, I'll call her parents later so they can pick them up." Sam decided, running a hand through his hair before clambering back onto his feet.

"Thanks for helping with this. It would have taken double the time otherwise." Sam said, turning to face him. Castiel glanced up at him, his face softening.

"I hardly need to point out how many times you've helped me. It's the least I can do." He replied. "Besides, I understand how upsetting this must be for you. It would be unkind to leave you to do it on your own."

"Yeah...I guess it's something I should have done a while ago. It wasn't healthy to live in a house that I hadn't properly settled into." Sam admitted, rubbing the back of his neck and ducking his head slightly.

"I guess it's going to be nice not having loads of old boxes piled about the place." Sam added with a humourless laugh.

"You sure you're okay?" Castiel asked, climbing onto his feet and coming to stand beside his partner. He reached out his hand and gently clasped Sam's, pulling him close so that their shoulders were touching.

"Yeah, I'll be fine." Sam said with a sigh, gripping back tightly.

Castiel smiled, watching as Sam greeted his brother with a warm hug. The Christmas music drifted on in the background, giving a festive cheer to the entire room, which seemed light with an ambient warmth that encompassed all. Even Dean was smiling, despite how he was complaining about Sam's cliché choice of music.

"It's Christmas Dean, you need Christmas music." Sam retorted, shoving Dean away from the hug.

"It's Christmas Eve!" Dean complained, rolling his eyes with an exaggerated motion.

"Then I guess you're not going to be eating the Christmas candy today?" Sam pointed, raising an eyebrow.

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

Dean laughed, brushing past Sam as he walked into the kitchen. Sam smirked after his retreating form, and slid down onto the couch next to Cas. Castiel turned to face him, humming with pleasure as Sam brushed his lips against his cheek.

"Ew." Dean groaned loudly as he re-entered the room, passing them two beers as he popped his own open.

"Shut up Dean." Sam whined. "You're hardly one to talk."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dean asked, feigning innocence.

"The Doublemint twins? Dude, you totally had a threesome with them without warning me not to enter. God, I still see that image in my nightmares." Sam said, his voice dripping with mocking disgust. Dean grinned, taking a swig of his beer.

"That was a good night." Dean commented wistfully.

"For you maybe."

Dean laughed again.

Castiel found out relatively quickly that the Winchesters weren't interested in traditional celebrations. They had an easy chemistry, one that demanded closeness, but did not seem to manifest itself in things like eating over a properly set up table, or interacting with idle small talk and polite conversations.

Instead they ordered a Chinese takeaway, which took almost an hour and a half to come, being as it was Christmas Eve, and sat with it on their laps whilst Dean insisted on watching a film called Die Hard. It was an interesting film, although Cas struggled to understand how Dean could define it as a 'Christmas movie.'

But after a few more beers, Dean had suggested doing shots. Castiel knew enough from past experience to be wary, but still reluctantly took two shots of vodka under Dean's eager persuasion. Dean had taken a few more shots, until Sam intervened and took the spirits away, forcing them all to return to beer.

Then Dean decided that they should play a game of strip poker. Which altogether seemed like an awful idea, and yet had still managed to be agreed upon.

"You're cheating!" Dean complained bitterly, glaring up at Sam through a drunken haze. Sam giggled excitably, waving his two cards in front of Dean's face.

"You wanted to play strip poker. So strip." Sam ordered, around a burst of laughter. Dean grumbled, reluctantly unbuttoning his jeans and yanking them down over his feet, leaving him just in his boxers.

"There's no way I should be losing this." Dean moaned, folding his arms tightly over his chest, his lower lip poking out in a pout. "He doesn't even know how to play poker!" He pointed out, gesticulating wildly at Castiel.

"Sam explained it." He responded, finding himself laughing along, his face beaming, slightly from the joyous atmosphere, and slightly from the alcohol that warmed its way through his system. He was only missing the jumper that Sam had got made especially for him, and his socks. Sam on the other hand was only missing one sock.

"Come on, deal." Sam ordered, his body shaking with laughs as he watched Dean pick up the cards to shuffle with another grumble.

"If you take a picture I will strangle you with your own intestines." Dean warned, snapping Sam's phone away from his hand, just as he was about to take a picture. Sam laughed again.

"Spoilsport." He retorted, nudging Dean's exposed knee with his foot.

"I fold." Castiel decided, placing his cards back down on the table. Dean glared at him suspiciously, before placing the next card down onto the table. Sam's face showed nothing as he glanced back down at his own cards, and looked at the four cards lined up on the table.

Both Dean and Sam called. Dean furrowed his brows at his younger brother, trying to dissect his expression to figure out what move to make. Dean placed the fifth card down on the table, and called, waiting for Sam to do the same.

They both revealed their cards at the same time, and Dean cursed, slamming his head down on the table. "You're a son of a bitch Sam". He growled. Sam laughed in response, almost falling off his chair from how much his body was shaking.

"Strip Dean!" Sam exclaimed. Dean continued to grumble into the table.

Sam's ecstatic laughter was interrupted by the shrill ring of the telephone. Dean looked up, and dived out of his seat.

"I'll get it!" He yelled, scrambling towards the phone, which continued to ring, unaware that it had just saved Dean from further humiliation. He picked it up, his voice drifting off into the distance.

"He's still going to strip." Sam decided, winking at Castiel who grinned at him.

"You were planning this the moment he suggested it." He guessed. Sam smirked.

"Of course."

“Um guys…” Dean said, entering the room with the phone still clutched in his hands. They turned to face him, noticing the deep frown that had etched itself onto his face. “It’s Jimmy…He’s in hospital. They don’t think he has long to live.”

“Sam, you’re being selfish. You can save him!” Dean screeched, his tone alive with rage. Castiel didn’t have to press his ears to the wall to hear the argument; their angry voices filled the house, shaking it to the core. There was not a single crass word he did not hear.

“It’s not my choice!” Sam yelled back. Castiel had a picture of him in his head; his face was contorted with rage, spittle flying from his mouth as his lips curled back, showing a gleam of white teeth, his face marked by lines of hate that cut through his heated expression.

“It’s not his choice either! It’s the right fucking thing to do!” Dean’s expression no doubt mirrored Sam’s. His voice was tensed, scratched past taut vocal chords, but yelled for all to hear. It was a wonder the neighbours hadn’t come to complain.

“Fuck off Dean, you don’t get to decide that!”

“Neither do you!”

“You can’t force someone to do this!”

“Why the fuck not? That’s what he was created for!”

“You’re a fucking asshole!” Sam’s tone changed then; something flickered beneath the rage, a deeper emotion that ebbed with pained thoughts.

There was a _thud._ Like a condensed earthquake it rocked the house. Castiel felt his breath deepen, straining his ears to pick up the creaking tremors, the slap of skin, a grunt of pain. Low, rhythmic, and indistinguishable they flowed together up to his hiding spot.

“Fuck off!” It was Sam’s voice, but it was rougher, growled out as though through the lips of a great beast, not a human.

“Where are you going?” The accusation burned through the tone, sparked along by violent fury.

“Out!” Sam roared.

The front door slammed, the sound reverberating throughout the house like the tremors that come after the initial quake.

There was silence after that.

Castiel sidled closer to the door, letting his head fall back against the wood, which gave a soft muffled thud. He wringed his hands together nervously, letting them move from his lap to his side, and back again, never able to find a comfortable position for long. He sighed into the darkness, glancing at where he knew the light switch to be but not having the energy to reach up and turn it on.

This was one of the spare rooms that Sam had only recently renovated. It was looking quite good now, considering how long it had been left absent of human touch. It was still quite bare, but the walls were freshly painted with a pale blue that was pleasing on the eyes, and there were a few cabinets and shelves that Sam had put up which were already piled with books.

He could hear Dean moving downstairs, although he could not form a picture in his head of what he would be doing. His presence was obvious though, almost tangible in the otherwise empty house. He'd never been alone with Dean before, and his presence, even when out of sight, was like a mark on his skin. There, in his peripheral, but requiring to be acknowledged.

He didn't know what to do. He didn't want them to fight, not over him. He knew that Sam valued nothing more than his brother, and to see them being driven apart, to be a wedge in their otherwise harmonious relationship was agony.

"Castiel?" Dean called, softly. He startled nonetheless, his head snapping away from the door as he shifted further into the darkness, letting the shadows wrap around him like a comforting embrace. "Cas, I just want to talk..." Dean elaborated, his voice louder this time, but still holding that fragile quality.

For a moment Castiel didn't move, and Dean didn't try to get his attention again. His heart was beating rapidly in the darkness; flickers of anxiety pulsed through his body, making him feel as though he was being electrocuted.

Slowly, he rose into a standing position, glancing at the door warily. He knew he should probably brave it and go talk to Dean, but he was nervous. Nervous without Sam here. Nervous about what Dean would say. Nervous about what Dean would do.

But he couldn't just wait here. There had been a gentleness in Dean's voice, enough to lull him into some sense of safety, even amongst his general anxiety. With another shaky sigh he turned the handle, allowing a flicker of light to seep into his prison. He carefully walked outside, the floorboards creaking under his footsteps, no matter how quietly he tried to move.

He turned the corner, trying to ignore how white his skin was under the soft glare of lights from the Christmas tree. There he hesitated, peering into the living room where he knew Dean to be. He could see him now, just the tip of his head, lowered into his hands, his back hunched over.

It was this humble posture, this fragility, this hurt that clung to him that made Castiel come closer. He saw the moment that Dean knew he was there; he didn't startle as Castiel had expected, but merely glanced at him out of the corner of his eyes, his breath hitching slightly, but otherwise remaining still.

There were no words that came to mind. No phrases he could conjure to make this all better. Nothing he could do, but come closer and tentatively take a seat opposite Dean, sinking tensely into the couch. Then, silence.

A minute went past. Then another. Neither of them said anything, and after a while their gazes drifted away from each other, staring into the space, whilst they instead focused inwards, a million and a one thoughts drifting through their heads, but neither strong enough to urge them to speak.

"You said you wanted to talk." Castiel said, a sigh tracing his words. Dean looked up at him, his hands rubbing at the creases of his eyes. His cheek was cut, and it blossomed with the beginning of a bruise, the skin speckled with red, and looking swollen and rough.

"I was surprised you came down." Dean admitted, his eyes narrowing slightly, gazing at Cas with a speculative glint in his eyes. Castiel didn't do anything to acknowledge Dean's words, just continued to stare at him, waiting for something meaningful to be said. Eventually Dean sighed, turning his gaze back onto the ground. "Sorry."

"For what?" Castiel asked, although he already knew the answer. The touch of bitterness that crept into his voice betrayed this fact, but Dean answered him as though he had spoken sincerely.

"No doubt you heard the argument. I get that I shouldn't keep treating you like just another clone." Dean replied, glancing at his hands. Castiel took a moment to notice how worn Dean's hands were; they were rough, and marked with faint white lines if one looked closely enough. He wondered if it was due to his time on the police force.

"What is wrong with Jimmy?" He asked instead, trying to keep his face neutral. He did not know what his feelings were towards the man who he had been cloned from; it was no doubt something twisted, and gnarled with a low shimmering hate, but it was too ambiguous, too mixed up with other emotions to really give him any insight into what he truly felt.

"Kidney disease. They said that he probably has only a few months to live; some other complication or something. I'm not really sure, I don't fully understand their medical jargon." Dean explained morosely, still keeping his gaze fixed ahead as though he was made of stone.

"I'm sorry." Castiel said, wondering if he was telling the truth. Dean looked up then, his eyes blazing with some passion that Cas did not recognize.

Dean reached into his pockets and pulled out his phone. Castiel tensed immediately, wary of whoever he might be calling. But after a couple of seconds Dean wordlessly passed the phone over to him. Castiel took it carefully, glancing down at the picture that was displayed on the screen.

“That was last year at Bobby’s barbecue. That’s Jimmy, obviously. The little girl in front of him is his daughter, Claire Novak, and the person next to him with the blonde hair is his wife, Amelia Novak. He has a family that he loves and who love him.” Dean said, his eyes boring into the side of Cas’ head as he stared down at the picture, feeling a overwhelming sense of disconnection, as though he had been submerged in water.

“Do you see Sam next to him?” Dean prompted him when he failed to say anything. Castiel had indeed seen Sam, but he found his eyes drawn to him once more, where he was standing next to Jimmy, his hand wrapped round his back as he leaned forward for the photo. “See how much he’s smiling? How happy he is?”

“Please don’t try to guilt trip me.” He begged, his voice strained as he pushed the phone back into Dean’s hands. “You don’t understand why I can’t do this.”

“No I don’t.” Dean responded sharply. “If it was a heart, or liver donation I’d understand. But this is a kidney! It’ll barely affect you at all, but it will mean Jimmy gets to live.”

“But it’s still my kidney. I can’t be reduced to being a product for someone else. I can’t give away the first control I have over my body.” Castiel pleaded, turning wide eyes on Dean, struggling to just get him to understand why he couldn’t do this.

“It’s still in your control; people donate their organs all the time. It’s no different from that. I’m still just asking you to make the choice. It’s still a choice, whether you say yes or no.” Dean said, a trace of desperation seeping into his voice. He turned his body fully towards Cas, leaning forward so that their eyes met, his breath almost tickling across the hairs of Cas’ cheek.

“Please Cas. Jimmy is one of the best people I know; he has done so much for me, and for Sam. He was there for us when our dad died, and he was there for Sam after Jess. He’s always been there. All I’m asking you to do is save him, please, just save him.”

Castiel looked away, his mouth painfully dry as his words failed him. For the first time though, he contemplated it. He thought about what would happen if he did this. What it would mean for him. What it would mean for Sam.

“Castiel please, I’m begging you here. If I could donate my kidney I would, but I need you to do this.” Dean’s eyes were wide and a touch of water collected at their edges, which were stubbornly blinked away before the tears could form to trail down Dean’s cheeks.

“I don’t know…” Castiel admitted, in a quiet and broken voice. Dean straightened, a glimmer of hope flashing in the depths of his eyes.

“Cas, if you weren’t a clone, if you were just an ordinary person, and you were given a choice to save someone’s life, at no cost to your own, wouldn’t you take it?” Dean questioned softly. Castiel gave a low whine, which was trapped in the back of his throat and muffled.

“But I am a clone…”

“But if you _weren’t?_ ”

“I don’t know…” Castiel repeated, his shoulders dropping. Dean stared at him for a long moment, his expression flickering, but never settling into anything that Castiel could understand.

“If you don’t do this, Jimmy will die, and there will be hundreds of people who will have to mourn. Including Sam. If you do this, all that happens is that Jimmy gets to live, and you spare a hell of a lot of pain.”

“And if something goes wrong?” Castiel questioned, his gaze flashing towards Dean, trying to ignore the slight trembling of his lower lip.

“What can go wrong? It’s a standard op.” Dean claimed with a shrug. Castiel hardened his gaze. “Okay, so there are some risks, but nothing major. Not for this.”

Castiel sighed, his muscles tensing. He glanced at the door wistfully, wishing that Sam was still here. Or even wishing that he had the freedom to go out on his own, without being trapped inside and utterly dependant on others.

“I’ll think about it.” He conceded, feeling himself growing smaller as he submitted to Dean’s desires. He didn’t know what else he could do.

“Thank you.” Dean replied after a heavy pause. His voice was sincere, full of surprise and relief. He supposed that was something at least.

It was about an hour later that Sam returned. He could still feel the bitterness clawing around his abdomen, alongside the burn of alcohol that merely urged it on. He knew he shouldn’t have left, but he also knew that he couldn’t have been around Dean much longer. Not with the rage that was slowly filling his body. Not with how much he had wanted to truly hurt his brother. It was better to distance himself.

He struggled to turn the key in the lock, his hands shaking from the alcohol, and numb from the cold air. The ground was still stained with ice and he vaguely wondered if it would snow for Christmas, like it had done last year. Not that he had particularly cared last year; a white Christmas wasn’t particularly magnificent when you had no one to spend it with.

A part of him hoped the Dean had also left. He knew he would have to make up with Dean at some point, but right now he was cold, drunk and unhappy, and all he wanted to do was curl into bed with Cas by his side. He needed the comfort only Cas could provide, the reassurance that he was still there, to make him feel even marginally better.

He opened the door slowly, and shuffled into the relative warmth of his house. He closed the door carefully behind him with nothing but a quiet click. It was mostly dark, besides the faint orange glow that shone from the living room, where the tree still shone brightly, unaware of all the tension that now ignited the house.

He was surprised to see that Dean was still here, and that Castiel was sitting stiffly beside him. He paused, contemplating returning later, but Castiel had already heard his approach, and snapped his head up to meet Sam’s gaze, on his feet in an instant. Dean turned his head, watching Sam warily but not making a move towards him.

“So…” Dean said, his voice cracking through the silence like a whip. Sam shifted uneasily.

“I’m not going to apologise if that’s what you’re waiting for.” Sam retorted, the alcohol helping to make him looser with his words. Dean snorted, a flicker of a smile gracing his face before it hardened once more.

“I didn’t think you would.” He responded. Sam narrowed his eyes, searching for the bitterness, or the rage that was suspiciously absent from Dean’s voice. “Just so you know, I’m also not going to apologize.”

“Yeah I didn’t expect that either.” He said, mimicking Dean’s words. His gaze drifted to Cas who was still standing awkwardly beside Dean, looking very much out of place amidst their sullen dispute.

“Guess it’s like every other family Christmas.” Dean said with a wry smile. Sam snorted this time.

“Guess so.”

“Although this time Castiel is here.” Dean added, pointedly looking at Castiel. Castiel squirmed beneath their gazes, his own eyes flickering to the ground where they remained. Sam raised an eyebrow, struggling to get Dean’s point, but having no desire to interrogate Cas for it. “Castiel decided something whilst you were away.” Dean elaborated.

“Really?” Sam asked suspiciously, his lips pressing into a tight, strained smile.

“He says he’s willing to donate the kidney.” Dean explained when Cas remained silent. Sam glared at his brother, doubt darkening his features.

“Cas did you say this?” He asked, still staring at Dean.

“Yes…” Castiel murmured quietly. Sam felt a spark of rage, detecting the uncertainty that lined his words.

“And did you mean it, or did Dean pressure you into it.” He asked, his voice dripping with anger, which could not be buried by his forced calmness. In his peripheral he saw Castiel shuffle on his feet and clench his fists.

“Both I suppose.” He admitted honestly. Sam ran his tongue over his lips, his gaze still boring into his brother.

“We’ll talk about this later. When Dean isn’t here.” He ordered. “For now I’m going to bed.” He decided, turning sharply on his heels and exiting the room.

Sam woke the next day with a grating migraine. The light that crept under the blinds was searing, and he turned away with a groan. Castiel shifted next to him, nuzzling his head back against Sam's chest. Sam looked down, smiling softly at the sight of Castiel, his chest rising and falling gently. He was still asleep.

He stroked his hand across Cas’ torso, enjoying the warmth of the supple skin beneath his fingers. Castiel hummed in his sleep, shifting again as he unconsciously reached out for the touch, his muscles quivering beneath the path of Sam's fingers.

He knew that he had been unfair last night. He shouldn't have left Cas alone, not even if he had Dean for company. As much as he loved his brother, he wasn't sure how much he trusted him around Cas, not when he knew Dean had motives of his own. He supposed Dean was just being as stubborn as always, trying to force people into doing what was his idea of right, even if it did not coincide with their own beliefs about right and wrong.

Still he had good intentions. Sort of. Besides, it was hardly the first time they had woken up annoyed at each other, and it wasn't exactly often that they took the time to apologize either. They just understood that they often came to blows, before they could go back to their easy way of interacting.

But he was still bitter. It was different when Dean was trying to get him to do, or not do something, but quite another when he was putting that pressure on the people that Sam loved. It wasn't fair to Cas. None of this was fair to Cas.

Castiel stirred again in his arms, apparently aware that Sam had stopped stroking his hand across his skin. He smiled softly, glancing down at the form that seemed so petite in his large arms. He placed a kiss on Cas' forehead, feeling the familiar shiver of love the coursed through him at the gesture that had now become habitual.

He didn't want to lose this. He couldn't lose this. Even if Dean thought there was nothing wrong with Cas donating a kidney, he knew that there were risks. The operation itself was one thing, but he'd seen how much Castiel prized his autonomy. He knew how much it could affect Cas if he lost his hold on his autonomy in any way.

The chances of Cas coming away from this operation and having a massive set back in all the progress he had made was properly quite high. Whether or not it was Cas’ choice, it still might result in him feeling a loss of control, which was the last thing they both needed. Not when Cas had come so far, and defeated so many personal obstacles.

That was what Dean didn't understand. He didn't see how much Cas had suffered due to the life he had been forced into when he had been made as a clone. Cas hadn't had a choice in that. He hadn't had a choice in most of the things that had happened. And the last thing that Sam wanted to happen was for Cas to be pressured into a choice that wasn't truly his.

He could hear the shower running. He wondered what time it was; it was quite rare for Dean to get up before him, even on Christmas.

It was Christmas. He repeated the thought with a frown. Christmas hadn't felt like Christmas for years, but it still felt strange to remember that, when so much more was going on in his life. He had thought it would feel much better this year, with Cas by his side, but still he had managed to briefly forget about the event.

He wondered how Cas felt about Christmas. Some part of him had wanted to go to an extra effort to make it special, after all it was Cas' first, but he guessed that it had been somewhat undermined considering what had happened last night. He sighed.

He supposed he couldn't complain, not when Jimmy was in hospital at this very moment. He wondered whether Claire was with him; what an awful moment for her. She would probably remember this day for the rest of her life, despite how young she currently was. He hoped Jimmy got better, even if he knew that only Cas could ensure that.

Castiel choose that moment to stir again, more vigorously this time. His breathing changed, becoming faster and deeper as his eyes flicked open, clouded with sleep and that first bout of confusion that occurs just after waking. Gradually they cleared, and he turned to face Sam, no doubt feeling his breath across the back of his head.

"Morning." Sam greeted, kissing him gently. The alcohol still clung to Cas’ breath, and no doubt Sam's was worse, so he pulled away after a few seconds, deciding any further kissing could wait until after they'd cleaned their teeth.

"Merry Christmas?" Castiel responded, clearly uncertain about the phrase. Sam laughed gently.

"Yeah that's right." He reassured, feeling a surge of happiness grip him as Castiel smiled, pleased at getting it right. "Merry Christmas to you too."

Castiel smiled, before it faded into a distant frown. Sam watched the happiness start to fade from his expression, as his form deflated. He shuffled his arm down Cas' abdomen, and wrapped it tight around the curve of his hips, to pull them tight against each other. Castiel sighed into his touch.

"Sorry about last night." He said softly.

"Forget it. You have nothing to be sorry for." Sam replied, trying to meet Cas' eyes, but they were too busy darting around the room restlessly.

"And my decision?" Castiel asked tentatively. Sam didn't have to ask him to elaborate.

"We'll talk about it another day, when Dean isn't here. I want you to think about this properly, without his influence." Sam explained, stroking his thumb gently over Cas' skin. Castiel chewed on his lip nervously, but nodded nonetheless.

“You ready to go downstairs, or do you want a quickee?” He asked with a smirk. Castiel licked his lips, and answered with a roll of his hips, turning around to pull Sam on top of him.

When they did eventually get downstairs Dean was already up and about, his hair only slightly damp from his earlier shower. He glanced at them, scanned Sam’s face, and concluded that the general consensus was to ignore everything that had happened the night before. For once, Sam was thankful that Dean could read him so well.

“I put on a cooked breakfast; a full English. It should be ready in five.” Dean said with a smile, flopping back down onto the couch.

“Awesome.” He responded, sitting down beside him.

“So plan of the day?” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow at him. Castiel slotted into place opposite them.

“Whatever people fancy really. I’m attempting to do a traditional Christmas dinner, so we can see how that works out.” Sam responded, making a face at the thought of cooking. The last time that they’d had a proper Christmas dinner was probably just after Jess died, when Dean dragged him to Ellen’s to stop him falling into an alcoholic stupor during the holidays.

“Well, if we’re doing the whole present thing, after breakfast might be a good time.” Dean suggested, a twinkle in his eyes as he regarded Sam, which meant his present was either going to be amazing, or terrifying. Or possibly both.

“You might want to check on your sausages.” Castiel pointed out. They glanced at him, both detecting the slight whiff of burnt meat in the air just before the smoke alarm started to scream.

“Shit.” Dean muttered, pushing away from the seat and running into the kitchen. Sam snorted, waiting patiently for the smoke alarm to stop sounding, too lazy to get up and manually do it by himself.

Sam stared at Dean, trying to ignore the heat that had invaded his cheeks, which were no doubt red with mortification. Castiel shifted beside him, peering over to get a better look which only made Dean’s smirk wider.

“Are you serious?” He grumbled, not even looking down at the box that sat obscenely on the table, trying to ignore the contents that he knew were inside, no matter how ‘discreet’ it might claim to be.

“Oh, don’t tell me it won’t go to good use.” Dean grinned at him, his eyebrow quirking upwards mockingly. Sam ran a hand down his face.

“I hate you so much.” He muttered, trying to school his smile into a frown, but finding it insanely difficult.

“What is it?” Castiel asked, furrowing his brows. Dean chuckled beside him. Sam bit his lip.

“Do you know what a dildo is?” Sam asked, struggling to keep his voice neutral. Castiel nodded, and a second later his eyes widened and his gaze flashed back to the box.

“Oh.” He said. “T-thank you?” He added, furrowing his brows, able to sense that this wasn’t exactly a customary present, but not comfortable enough with social customs to be sure of the correct response.

"Anyway, if Dean is done with being an absolute asshole, I'll go and get my presents." Sam said, deciding it was best to intervene now, before the conversation progressed any further.

"Spoilsport." Dean muttered, still smirking. Sam shook his head, wondering if he was a fool for still being surprised by Dean's choice of presents. No doubt he'd get some make-up present later, which would be a lot more socially acceptable than being given a dildo from your brother.

He jumped off of the couch, making sure to barge into Dean's outstretched legs as he walked past and made his way towards the spare room on the first floor, where he had decided to hide his presents. He hadn't actually been sure what to get either of them; Dean was not a particularly materialistic person, and Cas hadn't really experienced enough of the world to know what he liked.

Still, he had bothered to go to the trouble of wrapping the presents, even if it was only for Castiel's sake. He never bothered to wrap presents for Dean, as Dean very rarely did the same for him. The only time he would wrap a present would be if he thought it would be amusing to absolutely cover it in sellotape so that it took hours to even get it open.

He scooped them up under his arm and returned to the living room, pleased to see that Cas had started to relax now. He was always a bit tense when around someone other than Sam, but he was getting better at relaxing, even if it took a few minutes. And he'd had a lot of experience with Dean over the past few months, so that was probably helping.

"Here." He said, offering Dean his present first. Dean glanced at the wrapping paper with surprise, but didn't hesitate to unwrap it eagerly, if somewhat suspiciously. Dean was constantly waiting for Sam to get back at him for all those years of gag gifts that Dean had forced on him. Sam was still waiting for an opportune time to get his revenge; he just hadn't found the right gift yet.

"No way!" Dean exclaimed, a touch of excitement seeping into his voice as he saw the first glimpse of what his present was. He ripped off the remaining wrapping paper, and vigorously started to remove the outer casing. Sam laughed at his enthusiasm.

"It's sort of a hint to stop playing your music out loud." Sam joked, as Dean lifted the Iphone out of the box. It had seemed like an obvious gift once Sam had thought of it, and it had always surprised him that Dean hadn't upgraded to an Iphone, considering his love of music.

"Cheers Sammy." Dean thanked, still fiddling with his new toy like an overly excited five year old. Even Castiel was smiling at the display of excitement that brightened Dean's features, and lightened the atmosphere.

"This is for you." He said, giving the second gift to Cas. Castiel blinked, and took the box carefully. Slowly he started to unwrap it, with much more deliberation than Dean had shown.

"I wasn't fully sure what to get you." Sam admitted, watching as the brightly coloured wrapping paper fell away, revealing a glimpse of the present inside. Castiel was tilting his head, his tongue pressed to the side of his mouth as he tried to figure out what was inside. "It's a Nintendo DS; it's like a portable game console." He explained.

"Thank you." Castiel said after a second, staring at the present in his hand with a strange glint in his eyes as a small smile crinkled at the corner of his lips.

"I got some games for it as well, in the other room. I can teach you the basics." He offered.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't able to get you anything." Castiel admitted, his wings pressing tight against his back. Sam pursed his lips.

"I didn't expect you to." He pointed out with a faint huff of laughter, trying to lighten Cas' mood somewhat. Castiel smiled softly, but his wings were still firmly folded against his back, betraying his tension and anxiety.

He reached out his hand, trailing it across Cas' palm and nudging Cas closer to him. Castiel glanced up at him and sidled towards him, a soft, barely audible sigh passing his lips as he scooted onto Sam's lap, letting Sam wrap him up in a gentle embrace.

"I love you." He murmured against Cas' ear, too quiet for Dean to hear, who had the common decency to pretend that he was still engrossed in his Iphone.

Castiel didn't respond, but gripped him tighter, until his knuckles were white from the pressure. Sam rested his head on Cas' shoulder, and kissed him gently on the side of his head.

Castiel didn't sleep well that night. There was enough alcohol pulsing through his system to lull him into sleep, but not enough to protect him from the dreams that plagued him. For the first half of the night he tossed and turned, a bead of sweat running down his forehead as each slip into unconsciousness left him waking mere minutes later with a pounding heart, but no memory of the dream he knew he must have had.

By the second half of the night he had given up on going to sleep. He was too restless, too overtired to make the attempt worthwhile. Sam snored on peacefully next to him, lost to sleep. Castiel carefully manoeuvred out of Sam's loose grip, which was considerably easier when Sam had fallen asleep drunk. When Sam was sober he was generally a light sleeper.

He didn't known what to do at that point. He'd merely thrown on some old clothes, and then sat on the edge of the bed, staring out at the darkness that surrounded them. Occasionally the bed would tremble as Sam stirred, but otherwise everything was motionless, as though it was frozen in time.

He yawned, the burn behind the back of his eyes intensifying. He rubbed the back of his wrist over them, trying to ignore the itching ache that set in. He wanted to sleep, but his mind would not let him. He sighed, and rose slowly to his feet, before slipping out of the room into the landing.

The house was silent. Usually during the day when Cas was alone, the house would be full of vague sounds, that were barely noticeable yet somehow comforting with their presence. Even the sounds from outside would flitter into the house, and fill it with life. But with the night descending so heavily, it was like a blanket of darkness had trapped them in a lifeless void. He didn’t like the silence.

He walked across the landing, which creaked beneath his feet, the sound echoing around the house, seemingly as loud as the sound of shattering plates in the otherwise silent house. He pulled his wings tight around his body, trying to ignore the nervousness that stirred within him. There was no reason for him to fear the silence. The factory had never been silent.

He didn’t know why he couldn’t sleep. He didn’t know why it was tonight, after an otherwise pleasant day, that his mind decided to trouble him. He didn’t know and it bothered him.

He slipped down the stairs, not sure where his feet were leading him, but not wanting to stay in one place too long. The urge for movement ignited him into action, even if it was a simple, slow and otherwise subconscious action. He drifted towards the living room and paused, the glow of the Christmas tree providing an eerie atmosphere as it disturbed the shadows the rested uneasily around him.

He walked into the kitchen, turning on the light as he entered, and paused once more. There wasn’t anywhere else he could go to other than the spare rooms, and he wasn’t sure which one Dean was sleeping in and didn’t want to take the risk of disturbing him. He sighed, and poured himself a glass of water, before slipping into the seat by the table, staring out of the patio door into the array of gardens.

Over the horizon there was a glimpse of the forest, looking sinister in the wake of the bitterly cold night. He remembered running through that forest, being chased by a path of bullets. So much confusion, so much pain, so much fear. He remembered trying to escape into that forest once more, smashing the patio door, and making a break for it. He remembered Gabriel’s face as he disappeared into the forest, pursued by the guards.

He wondered what had happened to Gabriel.

He wondered why it was him who escaped. Him who found solace and safety in the form of a kind stranger. What had there been to separate him from any of the others that had tried to escape, or even from any of the clones in the whole world, that allowed him to be here today, other than luck and chance. Why had it happen the way it did?

Chance and luck was all that had shaped his life. His own choices had had very little to do with where he was now, even if he was pleased to be living beside Sam. But he hadn’t made this life; this life had been given to him. In more ways than one.

His thoughts turned to Jimmy. He wondered what Jimmy was like. No doubt he was well liked, no doubt he was kind and generous, and perhaps he was funny. Perhaps he was a genius, or a creative spirit; an undiscovered artist. Maybe he was all those things, or none of them. But he was a father. He was a wife. And he was a friend.

Was anyone made by themselves? Did Jimmy matter because he was alive, because he had intrinsic worth, or did he matter because of those around him, who cared for him. If Jimmy was alone in the world, would he matter? Would any of them matter, if they were simply themselves, neither forged for someone else, nor cared for by anyone else?

The books he had read talked a lot of destiny. He didn’t like the idea. If something was destined, than how could it be a choice? How could any of them be free if they were merely walking a path that had already been set out for them? He wanted to be free. He wanted to know what that meant, because how could you say you were free when you didn’t understand the definition.

He was not free to roam as he wished. He was not free to act as he wished. Even his own body was not his, as far as the law was concerned. He was an object, a clone, made for someone else. His destiny was to be used and discarded. No intrinsic worth; his worth was momentary, his worth depended on his use, and once that was spent then he would be nothing again.

If he donated a kidney, what would that mean for him? If it was truly a choice as Dean claimed, it should be easy. There shouldn’t be any doubts, or fears, or regrets because you should always know what you want. If you knew what you wanted, how could you make a wrong choice in regards to yourself? But he did not know the answer.

If he donated a kidney, a man would live. If he didn’t, that man would die. The choice should be simple. It should be obvious. He did not want Jimmy to die. But, the doubts clawed within him still. Was it a choice? Or was the answer obvious because there was no choice. Or perhaps it was obvious because there was only one right choice.

He should save Jimmy. But it seemed if he did so that would make him…something less than he was before. He was created for this purpose, and to fulfil that, after all this time of fighting so desperately to live the closest that he could get to freedom, to now submit to that…it felt like a surrender. It felt like he had simply given away his body, his life and his freedom.

He’d finished his glass of water. He didn’t have the energy to pour himself another drink, not that he was particularly thirsty anyway. He wanted to go back to bed. He wanted to be with Sam. But he didn’t want to lay awake for the rest of the night. And he didn’t want to have to wake Sam. Choices, wants, doubts. Why did everything conflict?

If things were planned, whether by some higher being or not, it should be easier than this. It wouldn’t be freedom, but it would surely be less chaotic? There shouldn’t be any doubts, or questions, or a conflict of interest. There would just be the path. All you’d have to do is put one foot in front of the other.

Maybe that’s all they were doing. But it seemed cruel to create a destiny that they did not know, and fill it with pain and doubt. Perhaps it was cruel, but why should that matter? If there was a higher being, whether it be God or not, surely it wouldn’t matter to Him if he was cruel. A child does not question why it pulls the wings of an insect; a God does not question why it allows so much evil.

He wished he knew the answer. He supposed in some way he’d already made the choice; he had more-or-less promised Dean that he would go through with it. He’d given him hope, and to take that away now would be more than cruel. What he was experiencing now was doubt, which would accompany either choice he made. If he made a choice quick enough, he wouldn’t have time to second-guess it, to doubt it. It would just…be. He was going to do it.

He was going to do it because he didn’t want Jimmy to die. He was going to do it because he told Dean he would do it. He was going to do it, because to deliberate about his choice anymore would no doubt kill him.

“Are you okay?” Sam asked, merely a minute after Dean had left. Castiel looked up at him, his eyes heavy with weariness, the black bags merely accentuating this fact. Castiel chewed on his lips, before nodding. “You weren’t in bed when I woke up…” He added, his brows pinched together in concern.

“I couldn’t sleep.” Castiel explained with a shrug, looking immensely uncomfortable under his prying gaze.

“How come?” He pressed, detecting an undertone of secrecy to Cas’ voice, which merely aggravated his concern further. Castiel just shrugged again.

Sam pushed his lips together, forming a tight white line. Castiel wasn’t even looking at him anymore.

“That decision you made…you know you don’t have to go through with it, right?” Sam pointed out, tilting his head slightly as he tried to figure out what was bothering Cas. His wings twitched, a few of the primaries rustling uneasily.

“I know. I would like to go through with it though.” Castiel responded, his face contorted with tension, but his voice was more controlled. Sam frowned.

“Okay. Let’s wait a week and see.” Sam suggested. Castiel glanced at him, a flash of annoyance in his eyes.

“I’d much rather do it as soon as possible.” Castiel said, his voice rising slightly in pitch. There was a trace of panic there.

“I know, but I think you’re being rash deliberately. I’d much rather you think about this, rather than regret it.” Sam explained carefully, noting the way that Cas’ lips was curling backwards slightly, his hands clenching into fists.

“Don’t treat me like a child.” Castiel growled, his voice low, rumbling from the depths of his chest.

“I’m not treating you like a child. I’m pointing out that making a decision without time to think isn’t wise. So take the time.” Sam responded sternly, moving away from the couch and into the kitchen without another word in hopes of deterring any further arguing.

They didn’t talk about it for the rest of the week. Not that Cas didn’t try to bring it up, but Sam merely deflected him. Sometimes Sam offered to listen if he wanted to talk through the choice, but he wouldn’t accept a yes or no answer. He’d only listen if he could see signs that Cas was genuinely thinking about it. It was getting frustrated. Cas wished he had the freedom to make the choice in the length of time he wanted. Thinking about it only lead to over-thinking which lead to stress and frustration which could be easily solved if he could just go through with it.

Even so, Sam’s plan had probably backfired. Castiel was starting to learn that he could be an incredibly stubborn person, and in this case, he was too stubborn to give Sam the satisfaction of changing his mind.

“My decision still stands.” He said as soon as a week had passed. Sam blinked up at him, still half-asleep and mildly disgruntled about being awakened. It took a while for the cogs to start to turn in his brain.

“Are you sure?” Sam asked, his brows pinching together as he shuffled further up on the bed, inspecting Cas closer.

“Yes. It’s been a week.” He replied, a touch of annoyance entering his voice. Sam ran his tongue over his lips, and Cas could already see him trying to find a way to delay this decision further. But there was hesitation there; undoubtedly, as much as Sam wanted him to think of his own wellbeing, his mind was also on Jimmy. There must be some relief there, even if Sam was too worried for him to show it.

“Fine. But we’ll still need to get some technicalities sorted.” Sam explained, his voice thick with sleep as he yawned.

“What technicalities?” Castiel questioned suspiciously. Sam looked up at him uneasily.

“We’re going to have to tell Jimmy what’s going on; this can only work if he knows the truth.” Sam said carefully. “Which means you’re going to have to meet him.”

“They won’t let him out of the hospital yet.” Sam explained, pinching the bridge of his nose as he rested his face on his hands. Castiel shifted uneasily beside him, his gaze flittering around the room. “But I don’t think we can wait. If he gets too weak the operation probably won’t be a success.”

“Then what do you suggest?” Castiel asked, his hands clasped tightly together in front of him. Sam frowned.

“I was hoping he could come here and we could explain everything, but we’re going to have to do it at the hospital.” Sam responded. Cas’ wings twitched, the colour draining from his face as he chewed on his bottom lip, his body basically shaking with anxiety.

“I’ll call him now and explain some of it. At the very least I’ll make sure we arrive at a time when he is going to be alone.” Sam suggested, feeling incredibly hopeless as he watched Castiel wring his hands together nervously. Part of him still didn’t want to go through with this, no matter how much he loved Jimmy.

Nevertheless he snapped his mobile phone up and started to dial the number, deliberately taking the time to punch each number in as opposed to simply going to his contact list. He could feel his own heart beating in his chest. On the first ring his throat tightened, and he wondered desperately how he was going to manage to say anything coherent.

“Hey Sam.” Jimmy picked up on the third ring. His voice was rough, and contained a quality akin to that of nails scratching down a blackboard. Sam felt a flicker of sympathy before he struggled to reign himself in and get to business.

“Hi Jimmy. Look is anyone with you at the moment?” He asked, trying not to sound too detached, but it was a lot easier than letting all his anxiety bubble forth. Jimmy paused on the other end, no doubt frowning at the strange question.

“No, visiting times aren’t for a few more hours. Why?”

“Okay, look this is going to sound very strange, but I need you to listen to me.” He started. He heard Jimmy chuckle on the other end, but it was too high pitched; it contained a trace of worry but mainly was just drenched in uncertainty. “I’m being serious.” He pointed out. The laugh broke off immediately.

“What’s going on?” Jimmy questioned, his frown ringing loud in his voice.

“I have someone who can give you a kidney donation.” He started, pinching his brows together as he tried to think of a better way to formulate his words.

“I’m sensing a ‘but’ here?” Jimmy replied, his voice roughened by forced humour, but otherwise was unreadable. Almost distant.

“It’s your clone.” Sam admitted with a sigh. There was a heavy pause. “Hello?” He asked, panicking slightly.

“Still here. What do you mean?” Jimmy asked, his voice stern.

“There wasn’t a mistake in his replication; he escaped from the factory. His name’s Castiel, and I found him, and it turns out that clones are considerably more human that we have been lead to believe.” He explained, feeling like he was rambling.

“Is this a joke?” Jimmy snapped. Sam flinched, unaccustomed to the anger in his voice.

“I wouldn’t joke about this.” He said, desperation lining his words. He could hear the sound of Jimmy breathing on the other end.

“Clones can’t think.” Jimmy pointed out.

“It turns out they can. Look, I can prove this to you if you let me.” He said. There was a pause which threatened to drag on too long, so he seized his chance and carried on. “He’s willing to donate his kidney, but you need to pretend that you bought him, that he’s your clone. The doctors won’t question it, but if they do I know how to get fake papers.”

“Sam, what you’re saying isn’t possible.” Jimmy said in a carefully measured voice. Sam suppressed a sigh, struggling to keep his features under control, aware of Cas watching him with wide eyes.

“Please just let me prove it to you. What do you have to lose?” He begged. Jimmy sighed on the other end.

“Sam, I’ll let you prove it to me, if only to get you to seek medical help when you turn out to be wrong, okay?” Jimmy suggested, his voice reserved and…flat.

“And if I’m right?” He pressed.

“If you’re right, well of course I’ll help you, seeing as I’m going to die if I don’t. But I’m not giving in to hope of something that’s impossible.” Jimmy responded, his voice surprisingly detached. Sam ran a hand through the tangles of his hair.

“Okay, then I’ll be over there with Castiel in fifteen minutes. If you’re willing to start the operation that soon.”

“There won’t be an operation Sam. But sure, come over.” Jimmy replied, before hanging up.

Sam sighed, pocketing his phone and turning to look at Cas, who was hovering over him. He smiled softly, taking Cas’ hand in his own as he got to his feet.

“We’re going to have to go to the hospital then.” He explained, brushing his thumb across Cas’ palm. Castiel nodded, his mouth pressed into a tight line. “Just do what I say and you’ll be fine.” He said, kissing Cas lightly on the cheek.

The routine had become standard by now; he attached the collar around Cas’ neck, and attempted to provide whatever comfort he could to stop Cas tensing up too much. He leaned in and stole another kiss on the lips and deeper this time. Cas hummed into his mouth, but otherwise didn’t fully engage, but merely remained pliant beneath Sam’s roaming tongue. He pulled away sooner than he would have liked, knowing that Cas simply wasn’t up for anything intimate today.

“Come on.” He murmured quietly, squeezing Cas’ hand tightly in his own, before he had to let it go as they stepped outside

Castiel squirmed restlessly during the car ride. He knew he shouldn’t, not when people from other cars could look in, but he couldn’t help it. The nervous energy was overwhelming, and it needed to be released in some way. He did at least attempt to make it subtle, but the heavy weight of the collar fixed around his neck was not aiding his anxiety.

He sighed, sensing Sam’s worried gaze flicker back to him for probably the fifth time in a five minute period. His wings tightened against his side, but he couldn’t help wringing his hands together. He didn’t know what to do; when he had first made this decision, he had not been aware that it would require him to meet Jimmy.

He still wasn’t fully sure how he felt towards Jimmy. He supposed he must like him to some extent, considering the fact he was currently trying to save his life. But perhaps it could be argued that he had chosen to do this for Sam’s sake. Perhaps. Truthfully, he did not know.

He hadn’t wanted to meet Jimmy; he didn’t even like knowing that he existed. It felt strange, almost unclean, like a reminder that he was not natural, that he was not normal, and he was in no means free. He wondered whether he blamed Jimmy for that; for bringing him to life, merely to serve him. But maybe he should thank him … If Jimmy had not brought him to life, he would never have met Sam.

He wouldn’t thank him though. He did not have it in him to do that.

His thoughts snapped back to reality as the hospital reared up in front of them. He shrank back in his seat, trying to ignore the way that his breath hitched, a stutter that threatened to erupt into a full blown panic attack. Which he couldn’t have here, not when so many eyes could see him. That thought did not aid his panic.

“You still have the option to back out.” Sam offered quietly, as the car trailed along the parking lot, searching for a space.

“No, it’s fine.” He responded firmly, taking the moment to get his breath under control. His chest still ached.

Sam frowned, but said no more as he swiftly parked the car and switched off the engine. He turned his head, waiting for Cas to make the first move. Castiel chewed on his lips, before taking a deep inhale, and exiting the car. The sound of Sam’s door shutting made him jump, and he was glad that no one was around to see his moment of fear. It would have looked suspicious.

He followed blindly, noticing the gazes that perked up at the sight of him, a brief curiosity that quickly grew mundane. He bowed his head, knowing his expression was probably giving away too much. They stopped briefly as Sam checked in and asked for directions, before they headed off again, seemingly walking through a labyrinth of white hallways.

They got to the room and paused outside. Sam didn’t say anything to explain why, and Castiel could not see inside from his position to assess what was happening. But after almost a minute a nurse exited, glanced at them briefly, before heading on her way. They quickly slipped into the room, and shut the door firmly behind them.

“Look Sam…” Jimmy started, before trailing off as his eyes lighted up on Castiel. Castiel shifted uneasily, taking the risk of raising his head to return the gaze.

“This is Castiel.” Sam said. Jimmy was still staring at him, his eyes wide with an almost frenzied shock. “It’s safe, you can speak.” Sam added softly.

“Hello…” He croaked, not sure what else he could say. Jimmy obviously looked like him, but there was something else there that he did not recognise; A softness around his jaw, a brighter gaze, a more relaxed posture. So many subtleties that were barely detectable, but were somehow significant. Castiel liked the fact there were differences, no matter how small.

"Well?" Sam pressed, glancing at the door warily. Jimmy furrowed his brows, his gaze raking up and down Cas' figure. "Are you going to help us?" Sam added, trying to snap Jimmy's attention back to him.

"Yeah, sure. Give me a sec." Jimmy said after a moment, swallowing heavily.

"We might not have a sec." Sam pointed out, shuffling restlessly. Castiel glanced at the door, but could not currently see anyone approaching.

"Right. Well yeah I'll help you. What do you need me to do?" Jimmy asked. His eyes had yet to be pried away from Castiel. Castiel took the moment to notice that Jimmy's voice was also different; somehow it was lighter, higher.

"Okay, literally just say you got the clone, and then get the operation done as soon as possible. But obviously don't say anything about Cas having a name or being human or anything like that." Sam explained, his shoulders sagging with relief. Jimmy nodded slowly, blinking a few times before he managed to peel his gaze away from Cas.

"I can call the nurse now...but I should probably contact my family..." Jimmy pointed out, chewing on his lips nervously.

"The less people who know about this the better." Sam pointed out, shaking his head. As much as Sam trusted Amelia, Castiel thought it was best if she didn't know. And Claire was just a child, there was no way to ensure she wouldn't accidentally say the wrong thing.

"Yeah, okay..." Jimmy complied. Castiel tilted his head, curious at the flatness in Jimmy's tone; the pure acceptance. He had decided that Jimmy would be a good soldier; he followed orders well, and didn't question things he didn't fully understand. Castiel wondered briefly whether he would make a good soldier, but he doubted it for a reason he couldn't quite put his finger on.

Castiel resumed his previously stiff position, with his head bowed as the nurse re-entered. Jimmy must have called her whilst Castiel had been lost in his own thoughts.

"What's wrong Mr Novak?" She asked, her gaze flicking towards Castiel, but she didn't point out the obvious.

"I want to be booked in for an operation; I have a clone now to act as a donor." Jimmy explained. Castiel felt that his voice was still a bit off, too obvious in the lie, but the nurse seemed oblivious. She nodded, a brief smile gracing her features.

"That's wonderful news. I shall alert the doctor immediately." She said, turning on her heels and leaving. The door was left open, so they did not drop the act, knowing she would return any second. They glanced at each other stiffly, the awkwardness almost tangible in the room.

"Hello Mr Novak." An older woman greeted, walking into the room followed by the nurse who was at her heels. "I hear that you have a suitable donor now, which means we can operate. Tell me, have you eaten anything today?" She asked, her tone fully professional, and somehow reassuring.

"Um, no I haven't actually." Jimmy responded hesitantly.

"Good, we might be able to do the operation today then." She explained. "Now, has the clone eaten?"

"No he hasn't." Sam responded, before breaking out into a forced smile. "I mean _it_ hasn't, apologies." He added, ducking his head with a flash of a grin. The woman smiled, accepting it as a simple mistake.

"Well that's perfect then. The operation can happen today. We'll just have to perform a few tests on both you and the clone, and then we should be good to go ahead. You are aware of the risks of course?" She asked. Jimmy nodded, a brief smile flashing onto his face. "Great. We'll need you to sign a waiver, but that should be it."

"Brilliant." Jimmy responded, the relief brightening his voice.

"If you can follow me, and Reena, can you please take the clone for the tests." She instructed. Reena gestured for him to follow, and he approached, trying not to show his wariness. It was unlikely that he could back away from this decision now.

Sam waited outside, trying to ignore the nervous cloud that tightened around his chest. They were still just performing the tests, which were probably just mandatory things to make sure there wasn't anything wrong that would lead to complications. Still, he didn't like not being able to see Cas. It was like the analysis all over again.

He just hoped this went okay. Kidney transplants were more-or-less commonplace; the operation took a fraction of the time that it used to. Now that you had clones, you had significantly more donors, so you had significantly more transplants. With so many advancements there was little that could go wrong.

But that didn't matter; just because the chances of complications were slim, it did not mean there wouldn't be any. Castiel could react badly to the anaesthetic. Anything could happen; it was still a major operation, no matter how far advanced it was now.

He wished that Dean had been able to come, but he'd been too busy with work. Apparently he had already had most of his leave, and he couldn't really have any more unless it was an exceptional circumstance. Jimmy wasn't blood-related, and it was a standard operation so apparently it wasn't considered exceptional by his superiors.

He paced the waiting room, knowing that he would be here for at least the next few hours. He didn't know what the average recovery time was for clones; were they given painkillers? Did they even get any recuperation after the operation? He'd never thought to ask before, and now it would just be suspicious to do so. He sighed.

At least Castiel could come back home with him after this. Then he could rest all he wanted. He could do whatever he wanted, and they wouldn't have any more burdens, or apparent responsibilities that they had to attend to. They could just be together, and be happy.

He reluctantly flopped down in the seat, knowing that he couldn’t keep pacing forever, not if he didn’t want to keep getting weird looks from the other patients. His knees bounced, and he tapped a restless beat on them. He needed some coffee.

His eyes snapped up as the nurse from before walked through the doors, her eyes scanning the row of seats before her gaze found him. She smiled politely and approached.

“Hello Mr Winchester. I just thought you’d like to know that Mr Novak and the clone have entered the operating theatre.”

Sam nursed the cup of coffee in his hands; it had long since grown cold, but he didn’t think it would be wise to go for a fourth cup. He sighed, glancing at the clock which seemed to drag on at an agonisingly slow pace. They had gone into the theatre over two hours ago now, and there was still no news. Not even another update to let him know that everything was going okay.

He wondered whether they would even bother to tell him if something happened to Castiel. They would probably only mention it as an afterthought, because he didn’t matter to them. He was just another clone. Sam frowned, wishing that Cas was at least in the hands of someone who generally cared about him in a human sense, as opposed to merely operating on him with a cold and impersonal detachment, like he was a mere robot that needed to be fixed.

At the very least he knew that Jimmy had to be okay. They would have told him if something had happened. Which at least gave him hope that the operation was going smoothly for both participants.

He sighed again, rubbing at his eyes to try and dislodge the weariness that had settled over him. It was worse not having anything to distract him. It was one of the reasons he hated hospitals so much; all you could do was wait. There was no work to dive into, nothing to distract you, nothing to pull you away from the weight of reality. Just endless waiting for something you couldn’t control.

A few more minutes went past. At least it was not silent, which would have merely amplified his worrisome thoughts about all the possible things that could go wrong. The door opened, but it was just a couple of patients leaving the ward. They both looked tired, but relieved. He wondered what they had come in for.

A child screeched, an infant lost in the throes of illness and unable to be comforted by his mother. He blocked out the incessant sound, as did everyone who surrounded him. There was a chorus of coughing and sniffling that echoed around the room. It was after-all the midst of winter, and the flu was prevalent as always.

He tapped his foot restlessly on the floor, the rhythmic beat lost beneath the general sounds of the hospital; the rustle of clothes, the gentle murmurs of conversation, some distant beeping that no one questioned. The sounds of life was ever-present, almost overwhelming.

He discarded his coffee after another minute went by. The bitter liquid was too cold as it crawled down his throat, leaving a musty aftertaste behind. He generally would have preferred it with more sugar, but he'd been too distracted to mention that to the woman making it.

The creak of the door as it swung open joined the other sounds in the room, and all looked up with hopeful or sometimes wary glances. It was the doctor from before, but it did not necessarily mean anything. She had gone through that door multiple times before, and each time she had walked past him without a word, too concerned by the other patients that lined the walls to pay him any heed.

This time however her gaze lighted on him, and she smiled ever so slightly before she approached. His heart started to pound, and he rubbed his sweaty palms down his jeans, trying to relax until he had least heard what she had to say. If she was smiling it couldn't be bad news; except, would she necessarily consider Castiel experiencing complications as bad news?

"Hello Mr Winchester." She greeted, outstretching her hand. He got to his feet carefully, and shook her hand, raising an eyebrow as he waited for her to continue. "The operation was a success; Jimmy should be due to make a full recovery. Of course he'll have to stay in the hospital for the next few days, but otherwise he'll be fine." She explained, her smile widening.

Sam smiled back, but it was a little forced, too awkward to be genuine. She didn't seem to pick up on his unease. She hadn't mentioned Castiel at all...which could mean anything. He tried to think of a way to word the question without it coming across as suspicious.

"And the clone? Can it be collected now?" He asked, trying to keep his voice absent from emotion. He hoped he managed to come across as merely curious, without too interested in what she had to say.

"I should think so." She responded after a moment, frowning with thought. "Are you collecting it then?" She asked.

"Yes, Jimmy wants me to take it. I don't want to have to hang around any longer than necessary." He replied, trying to ignore the hitch in his own breathing. He didn't like talking about Cas in this way, even though he knew it was necessary.

"That's good. We didn't really want it to be around here for long, they mostly just get in the way." She explained, genuinely sounding relief. Sam forced another smile onto his face. "I can go and get it for you now, if you're ready to leave?" She offered. He nodded, not trusting his voice at the moment.

He sunk back down onto the seat as the doctor left. At least Castiel was okay. That was all that mattered. Once they got back home everything would be okay again.

She returned a moment later, Castiel following stiffly behind her. He looked considerably pale, and his features were contorted minutely, with what was obviously pain. His feet dragged slightly as he walked, and when he risked a glance up at Sam's direction, he could see how glassy Cas' eyes were, fogged over with drowsiness and what was probably the after-effects of the drugs.

"Thank you." He said, addressing the doctor. She nodded politely, before slipping back out into the ward. Sam risked a longer glance at Cas, aware that they couldn't stall for much longer, as there were still too many eyes on them.

"Come on." He said, deciding that he could get away with saying that at least. He started to walk at a hurried pace, but had to slow down when he noticed that Cas wasn't able to match it. He chewed his lip nervously before drifting back to his side. He knew he couldn't be seen to give any form of support or comfort at the moment, even though his hands itched with the need to reach out and give Cas something to lean on.

Castiel shivered slightly as they exited the building and headed towards the car lot. He was naked from the waist up, aside from the gauze pad that was wrapped securely around his abdomen, no doubt where he would be left with a large scar.

"I'll get some painkillers." He whispered, careful not to be overheard. Castiel didn't say anything, or even look up in response, but Sam understood why.

They arrived beside the car and Sam took the moment to open the passenger door for Cas, glancing around to make sure no one was there to question the act of kindness. Castiel slid into the seat, his eyelids fluttering slightly as weariness seemed to drag his body down like a lead weight into the seat.

"I just need to pay for parking." He explained, closing the door. Castiel nodded slightly, more shielded in the warmth of the car than he would have been outside. Sam smiled softly at him, before drifting away towards the pay station.

His phone started to vibrate in his trousers as he was walking. He paused, burrowing his hand through his pocket to snap his phone out. The caller ID was unknown. He frowned, and answered it.

“Hello?” He asked, warily. There was a sharp exhale on the other end.

“Sam, where are you?” Dean’s voice drifted through the phone, the urgency making his tone crisp.

“Dean? I’m still at the hospital parking lot, why?” He asked, his brows furrowing.

“Listen to me, don’t go home. Go straight to the roadhouse, I’ll meet you there.” Dean ordered, his words running together as his tone lowered whilst his voice quickened.

“What are you talking about? What’s happening?” He questioned, his own voice descending into a hushed whisper. Adrenaline had already started to course through his body, alongside the anxiety that coiled around him.

“I don’t know, but your house is swarmed with cops. Not just cops, there are guards as well. They’re all armed, and I’m pretty sure they’re waiting for you. Just don’t go there, just go to the roadhouse, just not there, okay?” Dean explained quickly. In the distance he could hear the sound of cars roaring past.

“Where are you?” He asked, concern lacing his voice.

“In town, calling from a phone box. I dropped by your house after I got a radio alert about it. I don’t think they saw me.” Dean said. “Look, I’ll meet you at the roadhouse in about twenty minutes. We’ll sort something out there.” He added, before hanging up.

Sam lowered his phone, gripping it tightly as he stared around the parking lot, still full with people walking to and fro; utterly oblivious to the situation he had just been thrown into. A sense of helplessness tightened around his body, causing his muscles to seize, like a deer in headlights. It took a minute before he forced himself to move.

He decided to go and pay for the ticket, having just enough working sense to know that it would probably just bring more attention to them if he did not. He waited beside the pay station impatiently, his heart pounding viciously in his chest, his entire body shaking with the need to move. The flight or fight response was in full swing, and he needed to take flight.

He paid for the ticket and jogged back towards the car. He jumped into the driver’s seat, startling Cas through the sudden action. He didn’t take the time to apologise, but merely started the ignition and pulled out of the parking space, not even paying attention to make sure he didn’t collide with other cars.

The entire world had shrunk to just him and Cas; everything else was unimportant. It just hovered in his peripheral to be ignored, whilst his body pulsed with the energy, the adrenaline that overtook him. Castiel was staring at him with wide eyes, but even that faded to the back off his mind as he focused on driving, on escaping.

He shifted his grip on the steering wheel and increased his speed. He didn’t know if he was going the speed limit or not, but at this stage it didn’t matter. If there were police at his house, if there were guards from the factory, what did anything matter? He just needed to escape. They needed to run, and not look back, or all hell would break loose.

“Sam?” Castiel said, when most of the other cars had disappeared behind them. Sam chewed on his lips, his eyes scanning the road in front of him. “Sam, what is happening?” Castiel asked. His wings were twitching by his back, the feathers fluttering as nervous energy coursed through them.

“I’m sorry.” He muttered, taking a sharper turn than he normally would have done and speeding down a side road. He needed to explain, but his mouth was too dry. The words wouldn’t come to him, his thoughts too distracted by sheer animalistic panic.

“What is happening?” Castiel repeated in a firmer voice. There was fear there, it pulsed through his words and brought them to life. It was enough to grab Sam’s attention.

“Dean said it’s not safe to go to the house. We’re going to the roadhouse instead.” He explained, trying to ignore the way that his lips trembled, his expression stuttering with a million different emotions, but unable to settle on something solid.

“They’re looking for me?” Castiel questioned, but the defeat in his voice demonstrated that he already knew the answer. Sam didn’t respond. Castiel’s lips pressed together into a tight line, and he sunk back into the seat.

“Sorry.” Sam repeated, wishing he could handle this situation better. The panic had already seized him though, and the only thing he could do was keep moving forward. There was no time for talking, no time for comfort, and no time for waiting.

The car revved, keeping them from descending to silence. They had turned into a long stretch of road, which was mainly absent of other cars. It was one brief reprise from the panic that more eyes brought, but he still quickened his pace, trying to urge the car into going faster than it was made to go.

“ _Sam._ ” Castiel called, his voice taut and low. Sam had seen it too.

He glanced at the mirror, the blue sirens flashing behind him and gaining speed on them. He cursed and pressed down on the pedal as far as it could go. The sound followed a moment later; it pierced through the car and grinded against the bones of their bodies. He gritted his teeth, his eyes flickering back up to the mirror as he tried to count how many pursuers they had.

The road stretched out straight in front of them. There was nowhere for him to turn into; no quick and clever manoeuvres to make that would get them off their tail. It was just straight ahead, focusing on nothing but pure speed, fuelled along by the fear that was merely ignited by the incessant wailing of the sirens.

“We can’t lose them.” Castiel pointed out, his eyes glinting under the reflection of the blue light, given him an almost otherworldly quality.

“We can try.” Sam responded, the frown lines etched across his forehead. He knew that Cas was right; he knew that this road continued onwards in the same way for miles. There was nowhere else for them to go. They had been ambushed at the worst possible time, and he wondered whether it was planned. Whether the police had been waiting for them; whether they had known where they were planning to go.

He wanted to call Dean. How else could they have known? But then, he knew his brother too well. He knew that Dean would not have given them the location, regardless of what they did or threatened. That didn’t mean they hadn’t been listening into the call. It didn’t mean that they had let Dean escape.

The glint of metal in the winter sunlight merely declared the certainty that the police had known where they are going. He cursed, the line of cars in front of him preventing him from going any further along the main road. He tried to turn, to change his course of direction and head off-road to avoid the roadblock, even though it would be an obvious disadvantage for the car he was in.

But a second later the car screeched; the car rocked to the side as the tires burst, the car continuing to skid forward as Sam fought with the steering wheel, desperately trying to regain control, even as he realized that it was hopeless. They had placed a spike strip across the road, and he knew that most of his tires had been burst.

“Get ready to run.” He yelled as the car rolled forward, shuddering along as the tires groaned over the road, and eventually brought them to a standstill. He was out of the car before it had stopped, only waiting for a second to grab Cas’ hand and heading off in a blind sprint.

The wilderness stretched on in front of them, utterly devoid of any shelter or escape. He didn’t care, he just continued to run, even as the warning shouts of the officers followed after him. Above them a helicopter roared, but it did not drift any closer, merely hovered a few hundred feet above them.

He yelled as an officer barged into him, his grip on Cas being dislodged. He tried to kick up, even as he was rolled onto his stomach and pinned. The dust beneath him filled his lungs, and made his eyes water, but he ignored it, still struggling helplessly under the officer, who was already twisting his hands behind his back.

“Get off of him!” Castiel roared, kicking out at the officer and rolling him off of Sam’s back. Sam blinked, before scrambling onto his feet and breaking into a run again. The officer stared at Cas with bewilderment, before he shook himself off and started to follow.

But the frantic struggle meant that the other officers had already managed to catch up. They were surrounded. His grip on Cas tightened as a line of guns were raised and fixed on them. He pushed Cas behind him, knowing they were more likely to shoot a clone than a human. There was nothing else he could do.

“Just raise your hands into the air very slowly now.” The officer in the middle ordered, his voice otherwise calm despite the heavy weapon he held poised in his hands. Sam stared at him with wide, helpless eyes. He felt Cas move closer beside him.

A second later and he felt himself being pushed backwards. He moved with Cas, letting the smaller man wrap him up in an embrace. Castiel grabbed him round the waist, and pulled him close as he clasped Sam’s lips in his own. Sam lowered his head, leaning into the touch, feeling Cas’ chapped lips press against his softer ones, moving with a frantic desperation. He could feel Cas shaking in his arms, even as the kiss became more wild; Cas’ teeth scrapped against Sam’s lower lips, and the taste of copper filled their mouths. Sam hummed into it, his tongue slipping further into Cas’ mouth as he sought out the contact, wanting and needing more.

He yelled, a broken sob that was ripped from the back of his throat as he was dragged backwards. He tightened his fingers over Cas’ waist, but his hands was yanked away. He tried to fight against the arms that were pulling him back, but there were too many. He screamed again, raw with agonising misery as he tried to restore the contact. Tears flowed down his cheeks, burning a path through his face as he stared at his lover through watery eyes. His hands were twisted behind his back and securely handcuffed.

“I love you, Sam.” Castiel yelled, trying desperately to fight away the bodies that wrapped around him and dragged him onto the ground. Sam cursed, trying to wriggle out of the officers’ grips as he watched Cas being forced down into the ground, his arms twisted behind him where the handcuffs were quickly fastened. He saw the exact moment that Cas gave up, and his body went limp and pliant.

“Castiel!” Sam roared his voice barely managing to carry the words without snapping in two. Castiel’s wings flared where they were being pressed down onto the floor, and he squirmed, a flash of pain marring his features. “You’re hurting him!” He yelled, trying to kick out, but he was merely dragged back further. He roared without words, pure emotion flowing out of him.

“Sam.” Castiel murmured, so quietly that Sam only just heard it. He wept, a heartbroken yowl piercing past his trembling lips. He was held still by three officers as they approached Cas, and fastened a leash tight around the collar. Castiel whined, low and pain filled as he was shocked with what looked like a cattle prod, before he fell still, panting on the dusty ground.

“Please don’t hurt him!” He begged, barely able to see past the tears that filled his eyes. No one paid him any heed. He struggled further, trying to make the distance, but there was no use. He screamed again, full of rage and venom as he was pulled further back, towards one of the police cars.

He kicked out, a flurry of dust flying into the air as he pushed against them. They were stronger than him though, and there were more of them, and it did not take them long to force him back further. He glared at them, pure hate lighting the depth of his eyes as he yelled out for Cas once more. He was pushed into the police car which was firmly locked behind him.

“What are you going to do to him?” He asked quietly as two officers slid into the front seats and started the ignition. They glanced at him; there was pity in their eyes. They thought he was ill, that he was delusional. He bit down on another sob.

“It’s defective.” The officer replied simply.

“No, you can’t! He’s alive! He’s human!” He begged, desperation darkening his words. The officers ignored him. He flopped back against the seat, unable to control his heavy breathing. A few more tears trailed down his face. This couldn’t be how it ended. That couldn’t have been the last time they’d seen each other. This couldn’t happen.

Castiel was going to be incinerated. Sam didn’t know what would happen to him, but he didn’t care. Not anymore. He wanted Cas by his side, he wanted Cas to be safe, to be free. He sobbed silently, already having screamed his throat raw. This couldn’t happen.

“You’re an idiot Dean Winchester!” Ellen snapped, glaring up at him through lowered brows. He shifted uneasily, chewing on his lip as he did so.

“I didn’t know this would happen.” He said quietly. He ran a hand down his face, rubbing against his eyes as he did so. Ellen sighed, and slipped back into the barstool, her eyes fixed on Dean.

“You should have checked with us. You and your idiot brother.” Ellen added, her voice still stern but some of the anger had faded. “We would have told you not to do it. They always have alerts on clones that go missing. By going to that operation you just alerted the authorities to Castiel’s true identity.”

“I thought they were safe. I thought everything was sorted.” He said weakly. Ellen didn’t respond. God, he hadn’t realised how badly he’d screwed up. They wouldn’t have had the operation if it hadn’t been for him. This was his fault.

“Turn on the news.” Ellen ordered, turning her attention towards Ash who was watching the faded television screen. He raised an eyebrow at her but did as she said, knowing better than to try her temper. Dean looked at her questioningly. “You can be sure as hell this will be reported; an escaped clone is a media field trip.” She explained, her eyes flicking back towards the screen.

She was right. Dean watched the news, a frown etched onto his face as the woman reported about what had happened. A picture of his brother flashed onto the screen, and he felt his heart sink. He pinched the bridge of his nose. He’d screwed up so badly.

“We have reports that the suspect, Sam Winchester, has attempted to escape with the clone in tow. Jessica is on the scene. Jessica?” The presenter said, passing over to her colleague. The scene flipped, this time high above ground, the whir of helicopter blades accompanying the image.

“As you can see, a high speed chase is in pursuit.” Jessica explained. Dean tuned out her words, instead focusing on the familiar car that whizzed past on the ground below the helicopter. Behind it the screen was filled with blue, screaming sirens as the police cars followed close behind.

His breath hitched as his brother cruised over the spike strip. He gripped the edge of the barstool as the car spun, shuddering out of control until it rolled to a stop. He held his breath, watching with fear as his brother and Castiel appeared and started to run. He could feel himself shaking his head, his mouth murmuring the word ‘no’ subconsciously as he watched them try to escape, knowing immediately that it was hopeless.

“How did they know where they were going?” Dean asked, unable to keep his voice controlled. Ellen looked at him, but it was Ash who answered.

“No doubt they listened into the call. They have the technology to do so.” Ash suggested with a shrug. Dean’s shoulders dropped, realising that it was his fault yet again.

“Get off of him!” The deep voice broke through the television, and they all startled. The news had recorded the sound. The woman presenting paused, glancing at her cameramen with a quizzical head tilt.

The police did not react to the fact that Castiel had spoken. Dean watched in horror as they raised their guns, ordering them to surrender. He could see by the way Sam hunched his shoulders and the defiant tilt of his head that he wasn’t prepared to do so.

Then Castiel grabbed him in a kiss. The three of them glanced at each other, as the news continued to broadcast as Castiel pulled Sam tighter, the desperation visible in each line of his face.

“Is this going out live?” Ellen asked, a touch of excitement in her voice. Dean nodded, his words failing him as he swallowed heavily.

Sam and Castiel were lost to the world, focused only on each other as they pulled closer, their lips seeking out as much contact as they could get. They didn't react as the officers approached them, until they were roughly gripped and dragged away. The camera picked up the trails of tears that stained both of their faces, merely accentuated by the agonizing roar of emotion that echoed from Sam's throat.

"I love you, Sam." Castiel yelled, his blue eyes fixed on Sam, seemingly soaking up every little detail he could before he was yanked onto the floor. The words still rang clear; the microphones had picked them up, and the news had broadcast them.

Sam continued to yell, screaming Castiel's name, but his fight was in vain. Dean couldn't even stand to watch the screen as his brother was handcuffed and dragged forcefully away towards a police car, which drove away mere seconds later.

The camera switched back to Castiel, who was still lying prone on the floor. Defeat lined his expression as the tears flowed down his cheeks silently, mixing with the clumps of dust that were pressed against his face. They fastened his legs together, before pulling him onto his feet, and quickly throwing him into a transport van designed for clones.

The scene returned to the studio, where the two presenters were sitting with perplexed expressions, their jaws drooping slightly open. There was a moment of silence, no doubt as they were given instructions by the producers. Dean leaned forward in his seat, desperate to hear what they would say.

"Well, that was a very unprecedented moment." The female presenter started, resuming her professionalism before her colleague. "Already we're getting messages in from our viewers asking for confirmation of what they have just witnessed. This is a breaking-news story, and as such we do not know more than you at the moment, but we can guarantee that it is the voice of the clone you heard speaking. As for what this means we cannot comment."

They continued talking in a similar manner, merely repeating the known facts but refusing to elaborate on them. Dean retrieved his Iphone, ignoring the lurch of his heart as he remembered Sam giving it to him, and instead searched through the news feed, trying to see what others were saying.

"They all witnessed it." He murmured quietly. "They want answers." He added, glancing up at Ellen and Ash. They were still looking at him, but their gazes were distant, clouded over in thought.

"Maybe there is hope." Ellen whispered, more to herself than anyone else. Dean ran his tongue over his lips, not willing to believe in something that still seemed impossible, no matter how much he wanted it to be true.

"They can't hide this from the public." Ash pointed out, a strange edge to his voice. "They won't come clean, but it'll have them worried. Hope is possible." He added, smirking up at Dean.

Dean didn't say anything. He did not share their optimism.

Castiel sunk down into the corner of the transport vehicle, the chains around his legs clicking as he struggled to find a comfortable position in the rumbling darkness. His cheeks were still damp, but he couldn't even wipe them, not with his hands secured tightly behind his back.

He hunched over himself, his thoughts turning to Sam. He didn't know what would happen, although Sam had assured him previously that they did not incinerate humans. He already knew what his own fate would be, but it seemed pointless to fight it now. There was hardly anything he could do. He just wanted Sam to be safe.

He could still taste Sam on his lips. He could still feel the imprint of his hands over his hips. If he concentrated, he could even believe that he could still hear Sam's voice screaming out for him in his head. His eyes dropped to the floor, a slight tremble working its way down his spine.

The transport van turned a corner and he was thrown against the side, with no way to brace himself. He banged his cheek, which was already red from the way he had been forced down onto the ground. Another tear ran down his cheek, and he pulled his wings up around himself, ignoring the ache that set into his muscles at the action.

He'd completed his destiny. He'd given his organs over to Jimmy, and now he was being discarded. He sighed, curling further into himself. This isn't how he wanted it to end, but once more he was simply reminded that he had no choice in the matter.

He wondered whether it would hurt. Maybe it would just be quick, barely felt. Just a tingle of heat across his skin, and then he would be gone, consumed by the furnace. Perhaps it would be searing, melting his skin slowly and boiling his blood, so that he felt each and every part of him turn to ash from the heat.

It didn't matter whether it hurt or not. It would still end the same way. He would die, and in some ways that would be better than the alternatives he could see. Either way he would never see Sam again, but he could not go to slavery with that thought in mind. Death was by far the best option he had.

But he didn't want to die. He wanted Sam, and he wanted to live with Sam. He just wanted what he had been fighting for his whole life, which was his freedom. Maybe there would be freedom in death, although he doubted it. If clones even had souls, if any of them even had souls, why should they delude themselves to the belief that the afterlife would be any kinder than this life?

He sobbed quietly, unable to help himself. He knew it was pointless. He shouldn't mourn, not when there was no purpose to it. It wasn't like he could change his fate.

The transport van drifted to a halt. He glanced up, his eyes piercing through the darkness as his chest clenched with dread. Outside those doors, he knew that nothing but death waited for him. He wrapped his wings tighter around himself and shuffled backwards as the door swung open, the dismal winter light enough to blind him after the darkness.

He tilted his head, able to hear a sea of voices outside. He didn’t have time to think about it before he was being dragged out, lead by the leash in one last act of humiliation. He shuffled out of the vehicle, blinking into the light, before his gaze fell on the mass of people that surrounded him. He took a step backwards.

There was an entire crowd, their chants lost amongst the roar of each others’ voices. They were cordoned off by a hastily thrown together barrier, and the police marched up and down it, occasionally shouting at a few members of the crowd to get them to move back. He frowned, staring at the gathered people with furrowed brows.

“Free the clone! Free Castiel!” The crowd chanted, as their eyes flashed onto him. He stared with bewilderment as their voices rose into a crescendo. “Free him!” A few more voices shouted, a general roar of noise bubbling forth and masking some of the individual words, yet the meaning still rang clear. “Castiel!” A few more yelled, leaning over the barrier to try and meet his eyes.

“Why is this happening?” He asked, directing his voice towards the crowd. They cheered, roaring with delight at his words, which merely erupted into another chant. The guard behind him growled with annoyance and pushed him forward, quickly marching him away from the crowd and into the building which was lined with high fences spiked with barbed wire.

The collar tightened around his neck as the leash was yanked viciously, and he stumbled, struggling to walk with his legs chained together. The crowd disappeared behind him as he entered the grey building, the doors being shut quickly in an attempt to keep out the protesters. Besides this he could hear their shouts. Occasionally he heard his own name being called.

They reached a heavily reinforced door and they paused outside. He glanced up warily, wondering whether this was it. He didn’t know much about the process of incineration; all he could picture was towers of flame looming up above him, licking hungrily at his skin. If he walked through that door it seemed that this would be his fate.

They unlocked it, the key turning with a heavy clang before the door slid open slightly. He was swiftly released from his handcuffs, and the grip on the leash loosened, before he was shoved inside, stumbling once more. His wings flared out behind him as he tried to break his fall, but it didn’t stop him crashing into his side. Behind him the door was forced shut, the lock clicking into place with a resounding thud.

“Cas?” Castiel startled, looking up into familiar hazel eyes. There was a flicker of confusion in their depths, but it was overwhelmed with a flash of relief. He didn’t have time to say anything before he felt large arms scoop him up into a warm embrace.

“Sam.” He breathed, nuzzling his head against Sam’s neck. Sam shushed him, falling back onto his hunches as he pulled Cas on top of him. His arms wrapped tight around his back, occasionally brushing across his scapulars, but otherwise just gripping him and holding him there. He could feel Sam’s breathing, the way his chest stuttered with gasping breaths, a small sob caught in the back of his throat.

There were no words to say. They just held each other, their hands seeking out as much skin as they could find. Castiel could feel the painful stretch of his abdomen from the operation, but he put it to the back of his mind, too eagerly exploring the contours of Sam’s body. Sam was trembling beneath him, but Cas couldn’t see if he was crying or not.

Castiel tentatively ran his hand through Sam’s hair, doing his best to soothe his lover whilst he could. His other hand cupped him round the small of his back, his fingers curling into the skin as though afraid to let go. Sam shuffled closer, tilting his head until their foreheads were touching.

Sam’s breath tickled across his cheek and he leaned in further, their hips hovering a few inches above each other. Sam’s eyes were scrunched closed, but it did nothing to halt the fresh tears that trailed down his cheeks. Castiel watched him, his eyes scanning Sam’s face and mapping out each little detail, each little contour, each little dip, each little bump, and tiny hidden scars, and the beginning of wrinkles, and the smooth texture of his skin. He took it all in, letting it wash over his senses and take full control of his thoughts.

The door unlocked behind them again. Sam stiffened, pulling him tighter as his eyes flashed open, a spark of fury fixing on the door. Castiel turned his head, his eyes dropping with fear even as he clung on to a fistful of Sam’s clothes, reluctant to let his lover go without a fight.

A man walked in, his eyes surveying them with something akin to disgust, before he leaned against the wall, tilting his head at them as though they were a curiosity. The man wasn’t a police officer, or a guard, but he was dressed in a pristine and well-fitted suit. Castiel narrowed his eyes, before turning his head back against the crook of Sam’s neck.

“Would you like to come with me.” The man said, not even making the effort to phrase it as a question. Neither of them responded; Castiel burrowed deeper against Sam, whilst Sam just continued to glare. After a moment the man sighed. “It is within your interest to come with me.” He added, this time a clear threat lacing his voice.

“Why should we?” Sam croaked, his voice raw and broken. Castiel hugged him tighter.

“We have an offer to ensure your safety. Now come.” The man responded sternly, turning sharply on his heels without another word. Sam glanced down at him, and with a sigh he slowly climbed to his feet. Castiel followed him, leaning on him for support.

They followed warily, finding the man still waiting outside for them. He eyed them cautiously before continuing. A few more guards fell into place behind them, ensuring that they would not be able to escape any time soon. Distantly he could still hear the chants of the crowd, and he wondered what inspired their passion.

They turned into another room, the door being shut firmly behind them. There was a table in the middle, where another man had already settled down. He looked up at them with a malicious grin, which made Cas’ insides shrivel with terror.

“Please, do sit.” The man ordered, his voice dripping with forced chivalry. They glanced at each other before slipping into the cold and stiff seats. The chains around his ankles clanked together, reminding him of their presence.

“I don’t know if you know me, but my name is Dick Roman.” The man- Dick- explained, his voice bright with his own arrogance. His eyes echoed with a self-assured authority, and Castiel had no doubt of his power.

“As in the Roman Printing Company?” Sam asked, his voice cautious and detached. Dick smiled, his lips curling back to show too many teeth.

“The very same.” He responded, as the other man took a seat beside him. Castiel’s eyes flashed onto Dick Roman with a spark of hate, knowing too well who this man was and what he was responsible for doing.

"Now, you two have created a bit of a stir after your very public arrest." The other man commented, leaning forward with his hands on the table. Castiel frowned with confusion. "The local news decided to broadcast it live. It's definitely raised a few questions for the general public." The man elaborated, the disdain evident in his voice.

"And?" Sam prompted, his voice closely guarded. Opposite him Roman smiled again.

"It is a lot easier for all involved if this simply gets brushed under the rug." Roman explained. "Of course, we would require your cooperation for that."

"Why would we help you?" Castiel questioned, his hands tightening into fists, a surge of hate pulsing through his body. Roman merely smiled at him, before directing his answer towards Sam.

"We can offer a contract to ensure both of you safety and immunity. Considering your apparent desire to elope together, I am certain this will be acceptable."

"What would we have to do?" Sam asked, his hand brushing across Cas', doing his best to anchor him and keep him calm. Castiel took a deep breath, but he could not dislodge the anger.

"Merely confess to whatever cover story we come up with." The man explained, his eyes firm as he waited for their response.

"And what cover story is it?" Sam questioned. Roman smiled.

"That Castiel is not a clone. He's simply someone who got involved with the wrong people, who had the wrong sort of power, and placed those lovely wings on his back. Might create a touch of fear, but it'll make an amazing story."

"And you continue to create clones without interference from the public?" Castiel pointed out, his lip curling downwards. Roman's grin widened further.

"Precisely. Now, what's your decision?"

Sam glanced at him, running his tongue across his lips nervously. Castiel dropped his gaze to the table, trying to think of any other alternative they had. Once more luck and chance was marking him apart from all the other clones, and for no obvious reason. For his freedom, he would have to confine all the rest of his kin to continued slavery.

But what choice did they have? If it was chance that lead him here, than it was chance that let the news broadcast what they did, and it was chance that they were offered any contract at all. There was no choice in a universe full of chance and random coincidences, any more than there was a choice in a universe where everything had been pre-destined.

"Fine, we'll agree to your terms." Sam decided, gripping his hand tightly. Castiel didn't look up, his shoulders hunching further as he thought about all the rest of the clones, and the countless more that would come to follow, destined to live a life of slavery. There was nothing he could do.

They were escorted back to their cell after that. Apparently they still needed time to sort out the contract and make sure their cover story was solid. And then they'd have to confess to the lie live on television. It was what Roman wanted; if the news was enough to give the public doubts, than it was enough to lull them back into security again.

And the worse thing was the fact that Castiel knew it would work. Regardless of the endless flaws that would arise with lying about his origin, he knew that it wouldn't be questioned. The media took what they were given, and they lapped it up, before sharing it with the general public to be devoured but never questioned.

Like he had told Sam so many months ago, you couldn't change people's beliefs. Not when those beliefs directly benefited them. To accept the fact that the printing factories were lying, was to then accept that the miracle cure for all kinds of illnesses was no longer ethically available. To accept that would be to step back as a civilization, back to the days before cloning was possible.

The public didn't want that. The public wanted a juicy story, which is what they would get, and then they wanted to go home and be content. The alternative would be for them to have to change their world view, to have to edit the way they lived their life, and to have to take action against the injustice their eyes would have been opened to. Nobody wanted to do that. They just wanted to be content, and they already were, more-or-less.

He sighed, leaning further against Sam. He felt Sam stir beside him, just enough so that he could wrap his arm around Cas’ shoulders. He didn’t know what he wanted to do. It was another choice again, but it hardly felt like a choice at all.

Sam ran his hand over Cas' hair, taking comfort in the repeated motion. Castiel stirred, his breath hitching before it steadied out once more. Sam frowned, repeating the action as Castiel nuzzled further against him.

Roman hadn't sorted the contract yet. Sam couldn't help but feel as though he was delaying it on purpose, taking some sick joy in keeping them here. Or perhaps it was simply to make it believable, when they lied about doing a thorough investigation.

He sighed, the sound echoing around the darkened cell. Next to him Castiel continued to sleep, albeit not peacefully. He would stir every few minutes, and his breathing would quicken, before Sam could soothe him back into a relaxed state.

He probably wouldn't have slept at all if it wasn't for the operation. But Castiel had been tired ever since, the physical demands of everything weighing too heavily on his shoulders for him to keep going. Sam's hand brushed against the bandaging that crisscrossed his abdomen, the rough fabric a stark juxtaposition to the otherwise soft and supple skin.

Sam couldn't sleep. He wouldn't allow himself to sleep, not here on the cold hard floor, with Castiel curled up in his arms. There was no element of safety in this prison, and he would not succumb to unconsciousness, regardless of Roman's claims to help them.

Distantly he could still hear the crowd chanting. They were growing restless now, no doubt. He wondered what they knew, whether anyone had told them anything, or if they were just left alone to frenzy over a million different questions.

It had given him hope, when Castiel had told him about the crowd gathered outside, who knew who they were. Who genuinely seemed to care about them, due to that one display of humanity. Whether or not Castiel believed in the goodness of peoples’ hearts, Sam did, and to know that people were out there, in the blistering cold just so their voices could be heard, gave him hope for a better future.

A future they would throw away when they signed that contract. That was the truth of course. It was the freedom of every clone, or the freedom of themselves. That impossible choice, that was too personal, too close to their hearts to be made.

Perhaps some would continue to question, as opposed to simply accepting. But then, Sam had never questioned the printing factories before. He'd never questioned having clones. Not before Castiel had entered his life. People don't question things unless they have a reason to do so, and right now, it was them that was giving the public a reason to question.

He distantly wondered what society would be like in a hundred years time. Would the printing factories still be lying about the clones they created? Or would it change. Sam believed that nothing lasted forever, no matter how corrupt or how powerful, no reign could continue unquestioned for eternity. But whether it changed today, or decades in the future was now being decided by them and the choice they made, right here, and right now.

Still, Castiel did have a point. Change would not come about easily. It seemed unlikely they could secure both their freedom and the freedom of every other clone. They might ignite a fire that would bring about the change, but would it really change for them?

The question was whether it mattered that they would be left unhappy. For Sam, it mattered. It mattered that he wouldn't be able to see Castiel again; it mattered that they would incinerate Castiel, just so they could bury their dark secrets far away from the public's reach. His own fate, whether he was assigned to an asylum, or prison for the rest of his day paled considerably in contrast.

Castiel stirred again, a small whimper dropping from his partially opened lips. Sam shushed him gently, placing a kiss on the top of his head as he continued to stroke a hand through his hair. Castiel shifted, moving closer with a soft mewling noise, before falling quiet once more.

It was not the first time he had seen how uneasily Castiel slept. He was constantly plagued by nightmares, although he rarely explained what he had seen when he closed his eyes. Sometimes he would be woken during the night by Cas' frantic struggling, and it would take almost an hour to comfort him, to get him to calm down and realize that he was safe.

Although Castiel did not tell him what he dreamed, he knew what it was about. And that just fuelled his fury further. The fear, the anxiety, everything that plagued Castiel and dragged him away from happiness-that dragged him down into the own murky depths of his mind - was caused by what Roman had done. Not just Roman, but hundreds of people, all working together to keep the big secret.

It was wrong. It was unfair. It was downright evil. But what was there they could do?

They could not sign the contract. That was an option, albeit it was not much of one. No doubt Roman had some other ploy if it came to that; something else he would lie about, another cover story to conjure up. And the public would accept it, and the questions would stop, and ultimately they would lose and Roman would win.

Or they played the game that they were being forced into. They told the world their lie, they helped protect the printing factories so that they could continue undisturbed, and they had their freedom. At the very least, if they went with the cover story than Cas would be treated like a human. There would be more freedom in that.

But it felt wrong. The feeling coiled around him, unpleasant and sinking him further down into his own melancholy. There was no choice, but it still felt wrong. Doubt clawed at him, and already regret started to fester before he had even made his choice.

He sighed once more. There was nothing they could do but wait and see what fortune would bring.

Castiel startled awake as the lock clanged, and the door swung open. He was still curled up in Sam’s arms, and he took some comfort in the proximity, even as the panic clawed its way up his chest and tightened around his throat.

“Hello boys.” The man from before greeted, his English tone dripping with scorn. Castiel briefly wondered whether he was homophobic, or just plain nasty. Most likely it was both. “A news conference has already started. Roman is waiting for you and will give you a list of what to say. All the questions have already been pre-planned.” The man explained, motioning impatiently for them to follow.

Castiel clambered up onto shaky legs, his wings flexing uneasily behind his back. Sam clasped his hand, their shoulders brushing against each other as they both took the first tentative step forward.

Roman was indeed waiting for them just outside the conference. They could hear the yells of the protestors, but it was gradually becoming more hushed as the officials started to talk. It didn't quieten down completely however.

Roman glanced up at them when they approached and handed them a slip of paper without a word. He then quickly straightened his suit, brushed off some imaginary dust, and briskly walked onto the stage to address the many questions from the public.

Castiel glanced down at the paper, feeling sick to his core as he read the answers he was supposed to give. There was room for some ab-libbing, but it still had to follow the general script. At the bottom of the page was a written warning, reminding them off what would happen if they didn't play their part. Castiel gritted his teeth and passed the paper over towards Sam without another look.

"I don't want to do this." He muttered quietly, so that the guards who surrounded them could not hear. Sam glanced at him, chewing on his lip. "I know we have to do it, but I don't want to." He elaborated. Sam frowned, but looked back down at the slip of paper anyway.

"That's your cue." The guard behind them said, instructing them to come onto the stage. Castiel dropped his shoulders and eventually found the strength to somehow move forward, despite the desire to simply sink into the ground and disappear for good.

There was an explosion of camera flashes as they walked onto the stage, and the crowd erupted. The police officers stalked around the perimeter restlessly, doing their best to calm the protesters, but with limited success. Castiel could barely make out the individual faces amongst the confusion of noise and flashes of light.

He somehow managed to continue walking forward until he took a seat along the panel, where a few other officials were sitting. Roman sat next to him, with that unsettling grin plastered on his face. He slipped into the seat quietly, eying the microphone that was propped up in front of him warily.

"As previously stated, Castiel and Sam Winchester are here to answer your questions. As you will find this has simply been a misunderstanding, although it does highlight the need to ensure this printing technology remains in the appropriate hands." Roman started, speaking to the crowd with ease.

Castiel shifted uncomfortably, feeling a thousand different eyes all focused on him. It was like the eyes were burning into his skin and leaving a mark. Beside him Sam lowered his head, carefully avoided the prying gazes of the audience.

"Journalist for Fox news; I think we all want to know what the truth of the situation is, as it lies from your perspective?" The woman asked after being passed the microphone. The crowd hummed, content with the question as they awaited its response.

"Well, um, I don't know how much you've been told, but as Roman said, it’s really just a misunderstanding. Castiel and I have been partners for a while now, and um, we went on holiday a while ago to the south. Unfortunately, they were not as tolerant towards same-sex partners as we would have hoped, and we seemed to have inspired the wrath of a local gang there. Unfortunately for us, they somehow had within their possession the ability to clone patented wings, and fuse them to the spinal cord, in much the same way that cloning does. I’m sorry that this has come about in such a way, and I really just hope we can get answers as to how it is that redneck gangs have such technology.” Sam explained, stumbling over his words, seemingly struggling to remember what it was he was meant to say, when he glanced at Roman nervously.

“And Castiel, what happened after that?” The woman continued when he failed to speak. He hadn’t read the script properly, but he knew that he was meant to say something to collaborate Sam’s words. He swallowed, his eyes narrowing minutely.

“After that we just tried to struggle on. We weren’t sure where we could go for help, or if there was anyone who would listen to our story. I guess it just escalated.” He said after a moment, attempting to ignore the dryness of his mouth. The woman nodded, apparently satisfied. Roman’s eyes were still fixed on him, a constant threat of what would happen if he didn’t play his part.

“So, it is true to say that you were never a clone?” Another man asked when the microphone was passed to him. Castiel wondered how no one could see how staged this conference was. Even the protestors in the crowd were starting to calm, being lulled into security by the reassuring words that confirmed what they had original known to be true.

He licked his lips, hesitating as he contemplated his choices. He glanced at Sam, who tilted his head, sensing that something was wrong. He looked back towards Roman who was no longer smiling, but staring at him impatiently. The crowd was starting to stir again. He turned his gaze back towards Sam, a question in his eyes.

After a moment, Sam nodded.

“Castiel, is it true to say that you were never a clone?” The man repeated, pointedly stressing his words. Castiel flashed his eyes towards the man, before he trailed his gaze around the room until he found one of the cameras which were currently rolling, hopefully broadcasting live. He leaned forward to ensure the microphone would pick up everything he said.

"No, it is not true to say that. I was a clone. I was cloned from a man called Jimmy Novak, who needed a kidney donation, and I was cloned by Roman Industries. All clones are like me before they are processed and..." He hurriedly said, trying desperately to get all his words out, but the guards were already reacting. He was tackled from behind and yanked to the floor, where a sharp kick was aimed at his ribs. He groaned, shuffling backwards as another volley of kicks rained down on him, before the guard removed his baton and started to wrack him across his side.

"Get away from him!" Sam growled, yanking the guard back, and narrowly avoiding a punch to the face. He scrambled down onto the floor beside Cas and grabbed him, struggling to push him back onto his feet so they could make a run for it.

The crowd was yelling. Everything had erupted into chaos. The officers swarmed around them, struggling to keep back the wave of people pushing to the front, screaming about corruption and injustice, and calling out for freedom, for _them_ to be freed.

Despite this chaos there was nowhere for them to go. They ran desperately, but merely stumbled into a block of guards who apprehended them in mere seconds. Castiel yelled, trying to push his way through, his arms still reaching out for Sam as he did so. If they could escape, he was escaping with Sam by his side.

But it was a mere second later that an electric shock travelled down his spine, and his knees crumpled beneath him. He gasped, collapsing to the floor in a heap of limbs. Before he could even try to squirm to his feet he found himself pinned.

He looked up, trying to find Sam amongst the crowd, but he couldn't. There was just a writhing mass of bodies, but no way to see into it. He tried to yell out his name, but even that was lost amongst the chaos. He dropped his head down onto the ground, biting back a sob.

He had chosen this. He had willingly given up his and Sam's freedom just so he could make a point, and now he was already regretting it. He wanted to be with Sam. He didn't want to die. Tears splashed down his cheeks as he was roughly yanked to his feet and manoeuvred swiftly amongst the throes of people. His feet dragged uselessly beneath the weight of the several guards that were leading him to the exit.

He was bundled into the transport van. He glanced around desperately, hoping to catch one last sight of Sam, at the very least to know what had happened, but then the doors were closed shut behind him and he was left in darkness.

He yelled, throwing himself at the doors in the hope of dislodging them. He could still hear the screams of the protesters; this time it was screams of pain, amongst the yells of outrage. Whatever was happening was escalating, and people were being hurt. They were screaming out in agony. Castiel strained to try and hear Sam's voice amongst them, but there was nothing but the roar of the crowd.

When the transport vehicle roared to life he fell backwards as it swiftly drove off. He stumbled into a sitting position, his eyes still fixed morosely on the doors as though he still had any hope of escaping. But there was nothing. No hope, no choice, no freedom.

He screamed with pure rage and bitter, overwhelming despair. He didn’t stop screaming as he threw his hands against the side of the vehicle, punching it with futile desperation. His knuckles crackled open on the reinforced metal, and he could feel the crunch of his bones as he swung viciously, hoping beyond hope to achieve some miracle. Blood splattered across his hand, and he felt the sting of pain, but it was nothing compared to the pain that roared within him.

His throat crackled, his vocal chords giving up on him as his scream grinded to a halt. He panted heavily, feeling the blood dribble onto the floor, his knuckles flaring with pain. He stared at the wall of the vehicle, running his hands along its length and finding it unmarked by his violent assault. He smiled bitterly.

The vehicle turned sharply and he was thrown to the floor. He shuffled further into the corner, but did not make another attempt to rise. There was no point anymore. He simply leaned his head back against the side of the van, letting his eyes flicker close, as he started to sob in vain.

Sam was thrown roughly back into the cell. He stumbled, but managed to maintain his footing even with his hands cuffed behind his back. He turned, his heated glare burning holes into the guard's back as he turned away. His lower lip trembled, but whether it was with rage or despair, he could not tell.

The door was shut and locked. He didn't move from his spot in the middle of the cell. His heart was beating, seemingly louder than the cries that echoed from the conference hall downstairs. The protesters screamed, but the noises faded into the background, his own heavy breathing enough to block it out.

Had they made the right choice? He didn't know. He'd lost Castiel within the chaos, and most likely, he had lost him for good. There would be no special contracts offered to save them this time. They would have to deal with what fate had in store for them. That was the consequences of the choice they had made.

After a few minutes of near-silence, the lock clicked loudly and the door swung open. Roman stood in its entrance, his figure cast in shadow as the light of the hallway glared down on him. Sam turned to look at him, feeling his lips curl into a smirk at Roman's stiffened expression. There was fear in his eyes, as well as what looked like the beginning of a bruise swelling around his cheek.

"What do you want, you son of a bitch?" Sam growled after a moment. Roman glared at him, his eyes flashing almost monstrously.

"I thought you'd like to know we got Castiel." He said, his white teeth glinting past his thin lips as they stretched into a twitching smirk. Sam glared at him, his brows lowered as he pressed his mouth into a tight line, hoping not to give Roman the satisfaction.

"It doesn't matter; the world knows now. You're done for." Sam responded, running his tongue over his cracked lips, grinning viciously. Roman raised an eyebrow, and straightened his posture, returning to the epitome of authority and power.

"The world won't intervene. We'll clean up this mess you made before the end of the week." Roman replied, the arrogance ringing clear in his voice.

"You can't sweep this under the rug. This aired all over the news, and it's probably re-airing now. The whole world saw, Roman. You can't hide that." He hissed.

"You have no idea how many secrets I've protected. This seems like a problem now, but it's nothing we can't deal with. We've covered up a hell of a lot worse." Roman explained with that sinister smirk.

"Say what you want, you can't cover this up." Sam replied, stalking back to the edge of his prison, trying to maintain the distance between them. "I can still hear the crowd from here." He pointed out, tilting his head purposely towards Roman.

"Perhaps we can't. But you've still lost." Roman growled, taking a step forward into the cell. "Castiel has been taken away. He'll burn alive within the next hour, and I'll make sure it's painful, don't you worry about that." He hissed, his eyes glinting dangerously.

"Go to hell." He yelled, the rest of his vocabulary failing him. Roman smiled, his lips encompassing the majority of his face. He reminded Sam of a shark.

"He will burn cursing your name." He taunted, his voice rising in pitch. Sam gritted his teeth, dropping his gaze to the floor.

"He will die in agony." He added in a sing-song voice, approaching Sam with light-footsteps, almost gliding across the floor.

“And you will never see each other again.” He whispered, his voice trailing across Sam’s skin and making him shudder. He glanced up, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he lowered his brows into a glower. Roman smirked, leaning towards him.

Sam took that moment to kick him in the crotch. Roman stumbled backwards with a gasp, his face contorted with pain and outrage before he launched himself at Sam and slapped him across the cheek. The noise rebounded around the cell. Roman growled, a low animalistic sound, before he grabbed Sam’s neck and threw him against the far wall.

“I’m going to make sure Castiel screams my name before he dies. I’m going to make him beg for death. I will rip him apart myself.” Roman warned, his voice slicing though Sam, before he turned on his heel and stormed out of the cell. The door locked heavily behind him.

Sam slid down the wall, not having the strength to keep standing. The crowd was still yelling, but it was no longer a reassuring beacon of hope. He clenched his hands into fists, struggling to get control of his breathing as his eyes started to burn, and his throat clenched painfully as he tried to hold back the incessant tears.

He couldn't help it. He blinked and a few droplets rolled down his face without his control. He sniffed, trying to hold it back further, but then his breath hitched, and he knew it was a losing battle. It bit down on his lip and wailed, the broken sob echoing back to him as he succumbed to despair.

Castiel wiped furiously at his cheeks as the transport van rolled to a halt. He didn't want to go to death with tears staining his face. He sniffed weakly, struggling to breath against the panic that was tightening around his throat.

The door to the transport van swung open, and a couple of heavily armed guards hurried inside. He contemplated fighting against it, but the strength was already drained from his body. He was limp in their arms as he was dragged to his feet and marched into the open.

It was so cold outside. There were a few flecks of snow on the ground, although he did not know when it could have fallen. Perhaps when he had been imprisoned beside Sam. It didn't really matter.

The wind roared around him, cutting through his skin with a breath of ice. He shivered, pulling his wings tighter around him for what little protection they could give against the elements. In a few minutes it wouldn't be the cold that was bothering him.

He suppressed a sigh, taking one last glance at the world around him before he let himself be forced inside. He didn't recognize his surroundings, but once more it was an unimportant factor.

There were other clones here. They barely glanced at him as he was dragged past, their attention drawn inward as they too gave up the fight. Everyone around him had already been processed. They didn't know that there was a crowd of protesters that suddenly cared for them. They would never know that there had been hope for them.

It was probably better that way. It's not as tragic to go to death when you know there's no hope for anything else. He did however scan the faces, wondering whether he would see Gabriel's amongst them, but feeling a strange mixture of relief and disappointment when he could not.

He knew that Gabriel's body most likely rested beneath a sheet of ice, buried deep within the forest and marred with bullets and the foraging of animals. Or perhaps they had removed his body before it could rot, and incinerated him as well. He guessed he would never know now.

Their path took them deeper into the building, heading down a gentle slope as the security around them increased. He didn't know whether he was imagining the heat that suddenly embraced him, or whether it was actually there.

They came to a stop, before he was pushed into a room beside several other clones. They didn't even look up at him as he stumbled beside them, accidentally barging against their shoulders as he did so. Their gazes were on the floor. A few of them wept silently, but most showed no sign of emotion. The door was slammed shut behind them.

He bit down on his lip, trying to stop it trembling. He had already cried throughout the entire ride here, and his eyes seemed dry and itchy, but still his chest tightened, and even if no tears would come he could feel the sob trapped in his throat. His chest heaved, and he blinked furiously, trying to hold back the web of fear.

There was a click above them. Already the air was getting hotter. He whimpered quietly. He didn’t know how long this would take; he didn’t know how it would happen, whether it would be sudden, or whether it would be like being slowly roasted. He didn’t want to die.

His thoughts turned to Sam instead. He closed his eyes, trying to ignore the heat that tickled across his skin. He focused on picturing Sam’s face; the long length of brown curls that tumbled down the side of his face and sculptured it into the perfect shape; the dimples that appeared whenever he smiled, the way his eyes crinkled at the side, even the lines that would appear across his forehead whenever he was confused or concerned.

He focused on the taste of Sam’s mouth on his. The feel of Sam’s hands gripping his waist. The gentle sound of his laughter, the rhythmic calming tone of his voice. The heat was intensifying now. He thought of Sam, imagining he could hear his voice. He couldn’t formulate any words, but there was an imprint of Sam’s tone, the way he spoke, echoing throughout his head.

God he didn’t want to die. He wanted to be with Sam. He needed to be with Sam.

He flashed his eyes open with a gasp; his eyes were now full with water as a few tears tumbled down his face. He sobbed, the sound coming out broken and wretched. The heat was everywhere now; sweat trickled down his skin and bright lights flashed at the edges of his peripheral.

Sam’s name formed on his lips, but he didn’t have the strength to speak as another cry broke forth. His body shook, everything inside of him screaming out for Sam. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to die.

Why had he chosen this? Why had he chosen this over Sam?

The heat skimmed over his skin, beginning to grow painful. He gritted his teeth, trying to block out the low moans of pain that echoed around him.

The hair along the length of his arm crackled, beginning to burn beneath the heat that was slowly becoming agonising.

His skin reddened, a few blisters forming across his body as he started to tremble, unable to help himself. He wailed out loud, in agony and despair.

His legs crumpled beneath him as a surge of nausea overtook him, and he fell to the ground, his stomach heaving as he vomited.

His skin seemed to creak, as though it had been stretched too tight, and was beginning to snap under the strain. He whimpered, falling onto his side and curling in on himself.

There was another sudden heavy clang of metal from above, and a second later the lights went out, leaving them in pitch blackness. His initial, mildly delusional thought, was that he had died. But after a few moments he managed to regain his senses as the heat that embraced him started to dissipate.

“The building has been surrounded. Drop your weapons and exit with your hands in the air.” The crackly voice echoed throughout the building. He stirred weakly, still trapped within the darkness and too disorientated to think about his options. “We are coming in. If you do not surrender now, you will be taken by force.” The voice added.

The stench of vomit and sweat fermented the air, making his stomach churn uneasily. He moaned, crawling tighter into himself. His eyes flickered as weariness settled as a heavy weight over his eyelids, attempting to lull him into unconsciousness.

The door to his prison clicked open. A light shimmered over the fallen bodies, who glanced up warily at the intrusion. He shielded his eyes as the torch flashed onto his face, groaning against the blinding light. There was a surge of movement from the open door, the whole prison filling with the probing light of the torches.

He felt hands on him and he groaned, trying to squirm out of their grip, but he was too weak to even move. Then he felt the tip of a bottle pressed against his lips, and he lapped greedily at the water that dribbled down his scorching throat. The bottle was dragged away before he had quenched his thirst, but then some of the water was squirted across his exposed torso, and then was splashed on his wrists.

“Come on.” The voice whispered, drifting somewhere above him, but he couldn’t properly focus in on it. He felt himself being lifted, until the ground beneath him fell away and he was strapped into a gurney. He whimpered, but didn’t even attempt to move as he felt himself being carried away.

He awoke later on a hospital bed. He stared up at the white ceiling with confusion, his nose scrunching as he scanned his surroundings, his thoughts still held down by his own grogginess. He groaned, thumping his head back against the soft pillow and trying to ignore the way that his flesh stung.

“Cas?” Sam’s voice drifted over to him, so quiet and wracked with tiredness, that for a moment he thought he had imagined it. But then a shadow fell across his face and he opened his eyes once more, taking in Sam’s smiling face above him.

“Sam?” He questioned, relief no doubt flashing in his eyes as he struggled into a sitting position. Sam’s hand hovered over him carefully, trying to nudge him back down.

“Easy, don’t hurt yourself anymore.” Sam warned.

“What happened?” Castiel asked, frowning. Sam smiled at him softly, perching down on the edge of the bed.

“We got lucky.” He said wryly. Castiel titled his head, brows furrowing with confusion. “There was apparently more of an outcry than we thought. When the news that you were going to be incinerated came about, someone high up who is in control of these things made the decision to intervene. You literally had the army come to your aid.” Sam elaborated.

“And the other clones?” He asked cautiously. Sam nodded.

“Yeah, most of the ones who were with you when they cut the power are fine. A few of them had some complications, but they’re being treated. No one else has been cloned though; they’ve closed down all the printing factories for investigation.” He explained.

“And what about us?”

“Well, I’m still technically on parole. But it’s merely a formality at this stage I think. Otherwise we’re essentially going to be the number one witnesses in what is most likely the biggest court case of the last century.”

“Oh…that’s good.” Castiel murmured. He was still frowning, struggling to fully let the news sink in. Sam glanced at him, running his tongue over his lips.

“Hey, go back to sleep. You look shattered.” He suggested. Castiel hummed in response, barely thinking as he let his eyelids flutter closed, drifting off into a painkiller-aided sleep.

Sam smirked, satisfaction blooming in his chest as he watched the image of Roman in handcuffs being paraded towards the court. The news presenter explained the result of the testimony, that had occurred only hours prior. Their own images flashed up on screen as they exited the court house, pursued by cameras and questions which they tried to avoid as they ducked into the waiting Impala with Dean at its wheel.

Castiel shifted against his side, and Sam glanced down at him, aware of his eyes boring into his face. He smiled softly, as he brushed his hand down Cas’ side, taking pleasure in the soft skin beneath him. It was rougher than it had been; it was still marked with blisters and looked sore and red, but it was healing.

“They haven’t decided what to do about all the other clones, have they?” Castiel asked, his expression guarded. Sam sighed.

“No. They’ll get around to it eventually. It’s a miracle that it even managed to work out like it did.” Sam said, doing his best to keep his voice soothing. Castiel hummed, obviously still unsatisfied, but he didn’t press it.

“You know I love you, right?” Sam murmured, leaning down to brush his lips across Cas’ forehead.

“I think our experiences of the last few months have demonstrated that.” Castiel commented, a small smirk gracing his features. Sam pinched him lightly on the arm in retaliation.

“You’re supposed to say I love you too, you git.” He joked, voice dripping in mirth as he nudged Cas’ shoulder. Castiel looked up at him, his eyes softening.

“Does it really need to be said?” He replied, leaning up to catch Sam’s lips in his own.

Cas’ tugged at his bottom lip with his teeth, whilst his tongue slipped past his lips. They moaned into each other, lavishing up the taste of one another. There was a sparkle of energy within the touch, something that electrified the kiss, intensifying it into something beyond them. He felt a shudder course down his back, and he tugged Castiel on top of him, deepening the kiss further.

“No, it doesn’t.” Sam replied breathlessly, as they pulled away from the kiss. Castiel smiled, his eyes bright with adoration, as he slithered back down Sam’s body and nestled himself on top. Sam gave a low chuckle, wrapping his arms around the small of Cas’ back and pulling him closer into the embrace with a contented sigh.

“I love you too.” Castiel whispered nevertheless, after a couple of minutes had drifted by. Sam smiled.

“I know.”

* * *

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